A Golden Opportunity - The Night Shift
by Reika-Hell-Flower
Summary: "Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift." Sounded easy enough. Besides random vandals and petty thieves, there wasn't much to worry about. Not that much money though, but hey, when you're broke, you can't complain. But this is no normal job. There's something wrong about this place. And I'm going to find out what.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters. Ha. I wish…**

**A/N: Hey there :) **

**Just here to explain a few things…**

**This is the first installment of what will be a series of FanFictions which include my theories regarding the story behind the "Five Nights at Freddy's" games and interpretations of the characters. There will be a couple of OCs in this series, but the main focus will be on the canon characters. **

**It's an AU, taking in consideration some things I am going to write later on… But it is not Camie's or Rebornica's AU. There may be some similarities (it is hard to come up with a completely original theory without it being very different from cannon nowadays...), but as the story progresses the differences will become more obvious. **

**And finally, this first part of the "A Golden Opportunity" series takes place in 1992. Yes, there was no such thing as **_**tablets**_** in 1992 (there were barely cell phones back then…), but since this is an alternate universe, just imagine that, in this world, such technology is available at that year, though only by companies and not for personal use. So, it's like the year is 1992, but the technology level is 2002-ish :3**

**Now, on to the story!]**

* * *

So that was it, huh?

The end of the line.

Nowhere to run and certainly no place where he could hide.

5% power. 4 A.M.

He might as well leave the door open. What was the point? The power was going to run out soon and they'd be barging in anyway. Well, not _barging_ in… only the fox did that. The bear, in particular, – that _jerk_ – liked to take his sweet time. As if he was mocking him. Playing that obnoxious cheerful music while his lights flickered in the darkness; as if he needed to make himself creepier!

So far, he had been able to avoid getting his office invaded by any "hostile" presences – physical ones, at least… - but that was obviously about to change. It seemed they were tired of their little game of "hide and seek" and decided to go all out.

He could feel it. His time was, quite literally, running out. He was going to end up stuffed into a suit, never to find out what was _actually_ going on in that god-forsaken place. For the outside world, he would just be another "missing person". All evidence of his death would be disposed off, and they would just hire another unlucky bastard to replace him, who would probably end up in the exact same situation he was finding himself in right now. Like some sort of twisted cycle.

Strangely enough, he wasn't very upset about his predicament. More than anything, he was disappointed. He thought for sure that he would survive longer than this. He had a strategy and everything, and that for him was quite impressive. If there was one thing he regretted though, was leaving her alone. Not that it was his choice to die, but he still couldn't help but think that maybe he could have done something more to prevent it. Something to make sure he would return that night. Return to her. All he could do now was hope that she wouldn't think that he ditched her and ran off with some other girl.

A loud noise alerted him that the power had run out. The office was engulfed in darkness. The fan stopped working, and it only took the night guard a few seconds to realize how hot it was in that office without it. You gotta be thankful for the little things…

The night guard spun on his chair until he was facing the left door. He knew that he was coming. Nothing he could do to stop him this time. There was more than one hour until 6 A.M. No lucky breaks. It was over.

Right on cue, the "Toreador March" started playing. A pair of familiar glowing eyes and teeth flickered on and off at the door, looming down on the night guard.

Mike smiled.

"Hey Freddy. Took you long enough."


	2. Chapter 1 - Help Wanted

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

**[A/N – This is just a quick note about the time line of this story. The "Prologue" is set in real time - on Mike Schmidt's 6th night, to be precise - while "Chapter 1" onwards is kind of a flashback / countdown until real time. "Chapter 1" takes place 5 days before the "Prologue", and as the chapters progress, whenever a day goes by, the countdown will decrease until it reaches 0, which is to say, real time.]**

* * *

***5 Days Ago***

**RING RING**

"…"

**RING RING**

A young man glanced at the phone. The ringing object was within arm's reach, but he made no motion to pick it up. The newspaper and coffee in front of him were far more important. So, instead, he called for someone else.

"… Claire?"

**RING RING**

Claire gave no reply. He looked at the phone again. God he knew who it was going to be... And he did not feel like talking to them so early in the morning… or at any time of day for that matter.

"Claire!" he called again.

**RING -**

"CLAIRE! Pick up – Ugh forget it," he grunted, before picking up the phone grudgingly. He sighed. "… Hello…?"

"Mikey, honey!" a female voice greeted loudly on the other side.

Mike grumbled. "Hi mom…"

"So how are you, sweetie? How's your new apartment?"

"Okay, I guess…" he replied, taking a quick glance at a particularly large mold stain that had been staring at him all morning from the ceiling. "I've seen worse."

"And how is Claire doing? And her job?"

He rolled his eyes. He knew what would be the next question. "Yeah, she's doing alright. Saved a stray cat yesterday and found him a new home and everything."

"Oh that's wonderful dear! How about you, have you found a nice job yet?"

And there it was. "_No_, mom, I have not…" he sighed.

"You haven't found one, or you haven't _looked_ for one?" asked a rougher voice from the other side of the phone.

Mike's eyes narrowed. "Hello to you too, dad."

"Son, you know that we're doing this for your own good," his father said. "You have got to start being more responsible. Living at your own house does not automatically make you an adult. And I hope you don't expect to live off of your girlfriend's salary forever."

"Why yes, that was exactly what I was planning on doing," Mike retorted sarcastically. "Since I'm already a scum of a human being, wouldn't make that much of a difference…"

He heard his father grunt something angrily. "Now listen, young man -"

"P-please, dear," his mother interrupted. "I'm sure Mikey is trying his best. We shouldn't push him… Don't worry, honey, whatever job you find, we'll be proud of you."

Mike looked at the mold stain again. "… Sure."

"Well, we have to go now… Something's going to come up, just don't lose hope! We love you."

"… Yeah. Bye."

He hung up the phone and rubbed his temples. How long was that going to go on?

Ever since Mike Schmidt had moved out of his parents' home, hoping to start his independence – long over-do, in his opinion – they hadn't stopped nagging him to get a job. It was as if they thought he liked being dependant on Claire's income to have enough food on the table! Life wasn't easy those days, and it was hard to find a job, especially if he didn't have any experience. And it only got worse once his father decided to stop lending him money. According to Mr. You-Have-to-Grow-Some-Balls-And-Be-Responsible Schmidt, he had done it to "give him a little push" towards his adulthood; as far as Mike was concerned, it was punishment. For what, he wasn't sure. There were so many possibilities – for never trying hard enough at school, for never showing much of an interest in any sort of "respectable" business, for always getting involved in fights, for ruining his best suit when he cut it up and turned it into a ribbon to give to some random girl when he was 5_,_God knows…

"Is the storm over?"

Mike looked over his shoulder to see Claire daring a peek from behind the kitchen door. She smiled at him, which, as usual, made him smile too.

"How did it go?" she asked, sliding up to him with a cup of coffee in her hands.

"Same as always. Dad argued, mom begged, I snapped. Nothing new," Mike replied as casually as he could, picking up his own cup of coffee and looking absent-mindedly at the newspaper.

He could imagine Claire frowning behind him.

"You shouldn't be so hard on your parents. They just want to help…" she said, placing her cup of coffee carefully on the table. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head. "You just have to control your temper…"

"Right, it's my fault now," he grunted, turning the page abruptly.

"It sure is. If you weren't such a lazy bum, your parents wouldn't have had to cut the funds," Claire concluded, indifferently. "And snapping and whining like a brat isn't going to score you any points with them either."

He snorted. "My own girlfriend sides with my parents. God must really hate me."

"Nonsense, He adores you. Why else would He have allowed you to have such a wonderful girlfriend? Now seriously, if you don't want your parents breathing down your neck you just have to prove them wrong." She let go of him, walking over to his left and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Show them you _are_ responsible and you _don't_ need their money."

Claire picked up her coffee and took a sip. She then added casually: "Then maybe you will get a sudden inspiration, maybe propose to me, and _maybe_ I'll be overjoyed because I've been waiting for it for five years and _maybe_ I'll accept."

Mike glanced at her. "… No pressure."

Claire shook her head. "None at all. Then _maybe_ you will be rewarded with the best sex of your life."

He stared at her with a fake stunned expression, then proceeding to flip through the pages fervently, as if his life depended on it, all for comedic purpose.

Claire laughed loudly as some pages flew past her, being separated from the others by Mike's "hot-blooded" browsing. "Easy tiger, no need to overdo it!"

He chuckled lightly, watching Claire bend over to retrieve the fallen pages. It wasn't all bad, he thought. At least he had her.

Claire Shepherd had been his girlfriend for five years, easily holding the record for his longest - and most serious - relationship. There were times when he wondered how on earth did she manage to put with him for so long. She could have any guy she wanted, yet she went for no-good Mike Schmidt. Life was sure full of mysteries. She worked as an assistant at the local pet shop, and was very happy with it. Claire loved animals, and it wasn't uncommon for Mike to come home and find some random stray dog or cat taking over his couch. Naturally, Claire had to find it a new home quickly, since they weren't allowed to have any pets at their apartment. He wasn't intending on living in that place forever though. His hope was that he could find a nicer home where they could both live together; a nice house with a garden and backyard where Claire could keep all the pets she wanted. That should make her happy.

Mike smiled at the thought, as Claire read one page in particular with a frown. It seemed to have gotten her attention.

"Something interesting on that one?" he asked. "I hope it's not wedding dresses…"

Claire looked up at him. "What? Oh – ha, no, no. It's just… well, it's a job offer…" She showed him the page.

There were a few announcements there, but one in particular stood out due of the picture that went along with it.

A brown bear – probably a robot of some sort – with a top hat and a bowtie was smiling to the camera. Next to the picture, it read:

"_HELP WANTED_

_Freddy Fazbear's Pizza_

_Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift. 12 am to 6 am._

_Monitor cameras, ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters._

_Not responsible for injury / dismemberment._

_$120 a week._

_To apply call: 1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR"_

Mike glanced between the text and the picture. He had heard about that pizzeria… something about animatronics that can talk and move? He had seen some news report about the place actually. Apparently they were having some problems with client numbers decreasing. He didn't remember ever going there, though his mother did say he spend one of his birthdays there. Of course, he had the worst memory known to man – he could barely remember anything from when he was a kid.

"Well… this job doesn't sound too bad… It's minimum wage, but hey! Better than nothing… What do you think?"

He turned to Claire. She was looking at the picture apprehensively. "I… I don't know… What about this, 'Not responsible for injury dismemberment' thing?"

"Oh that's probably just one of those 'law' things they have to include nowadays, you know… Since they have robots and stuff, maybe some guys got too comfortable with them, doing things they shouldn't be doing…"

Claire gasped. "Wha… What kind of thing are you talking about?!"

Mike shrugged. "You never know what kind of things people are into, who am I to judge…? Some people are attracted to people, others to robots…"

His girlfriend smacked his shoulder. "That's disgusting!"

"I'm joking!" he assured, laughing. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, Claire. I'm going to call this number, see how it goes."

She looked at the newspaper page, as if she regretted showing it to him. Claire could get worried over nothing very easily. Especially if it regarded him. He couldn't blame her, really. He seemed to attract problems wherever he went; if something could go wrong, it would. But this time, he had no time to have second thoughts. He _needed_ this job. He needed _any_ job. With any luck, he would get hired and then his parents would once and for all stop nagging him about it.

He dialed the phone number and waited. It only took a couple of seconds for someone to pick up the phone.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Lawrence Richards speaking, what can I do for you?" The man talking had a deep voice. Mike had the feeling that Lawrence Richards was ready to murder whoever was bothering him, as aggravated as he sounded. So much for a warm greeting…

"Um, hello. I saw the offer for the, uh, night guard position on the newspaper, so, uh… Is it still available?" he stammered, hushing Claire as she sniggered at his awkward reply.

"Yes. So can you start working tonight?" was his answer.

Mike stared at the phone and then glanced confused at Claire. It couldn't be that easy, could it? Claire looked as confused as he was, but recovered from it quickly and nodded encouragingly.

"Y-yeah, no problem!" Mike replied. "What time should I -"

"Alright, welcome to the family, kid. Come in at 9 o'clock, I'll explain you what you need to do. Good day." With that, Lawrence hung up.

Mike put down the phone and looked at Claire, still in shock.

"Well… that was quick," he laughed.

"Too quick," Claire retorted, picking up the page with the Freddy Fazbear Pizza offer again. "You'd think they're desperate or something…"

"Then we have something in common. Now to call daddy dearest and let him know his son is not so worthless anymore…" he mused, picking up the phone as Claire sighed.

She glanced at the picture of the animatronic bear. "I have a bad feeling about this…"

* * *

**[A/N: A lot of dialogue on this one, I know. It was necessary, kind of, just so I wouldn't write a massive wall of text describing everything, I just let the characters do the work for me. Next chapter will have less dialogue, I promise.**

**I re-posted the chapter because I included some info on one of my OCs. Claire is pretty much my interpretation on how Mike's girlfriend would be like. I've read somewhere that the lyrics of the "Toreador March" - the bit that Freddy plays when the power runs out that is - mentions something like "and that love is waiting for you", so I thought "Hey, wouldn't it be nice if he **_**actually **_**has love waiting for him? After all the shit he goes through at the pizzeria, he sure deserves it..." And so Claire was made. I quite like her, and the way they interact.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think! Any constructive criticism and support is much appreciated :3]**


	3. Chapter 2 - The Pizzeria

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

"_FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZA"_

Mike looked up at the sign and then down at the doors of the establishment. It was still open. Judging from its aged – and seemingly abandoned – appearance, the place had clearly seen better days. That worked for its reputation too.

Although his parents were clearly very much relieved that he had got the job so quickly, both shared their (unwanted) concern over it. There were all kinds of stories about Freddy Fazbear's Pizza apparently, from missing kids to demonic rituals and possession, using human remains to make the food, being a cover for a group of estranged scientists trying to fuse humans with animatronic parts or simply that the manager was a dick. Never one to pay attention to rumors or gossip, Mike had obviously never heard of any of this, but it didn't make him change his mind. He needed the job.

So, after having dinner and reassuring Claire for the 20th time about how sure he was that everything was going to be alright, he left the apartment. Now that he was standing in front of the actual building, he could see why people felt so uneasy about it. The place was creepy. And well, the fact that they had moving robots that could talk probably didn't help.

"_Alright. It's all for the money… You need the money,"_ Mike thought to himself. _"You're gonna be the best night guard this place has ever seen! … And hopefully get a raise eventually. With any luck."_

He took a step inside and looked around. The place was practically deserted. There were only two families there, and it couldn't be more obvious that the parents were there just to appease their children. They kept looking at the stage nervously, as if they were expecting to be attacked at any second. The children, however, were clearly having the time of their lives, cheering happily for a band that was performing.

On the stage were three animatronics: a brown bear, a purple bunny and a yellow chicken. The bear, clearly the leader, sang along with the chicken, who had a bib that said "Let's Eat" and a cupcake in its hands, while the bunny played the electric guitar. Now that Mike was actually seeing them, they didn't look so bad. He could actually picture himself jamming to their songs back when he was kid.

"Hey. You over there," a voice called.

Mike looked around for the owner of the voice, which he immediately recognized as belonging to the man with whom he talked to on the phone. Lawrence, was it?

Once he found him, he had to stop himself from taking a step back. The person storming his way towards Mike was a tall man with sleek black hair and piercing eyes. He seemed to be on his late 40's. Everything about him screamed "I mean business son, and I'm not taking your shit".

"Are you the kid I talked to on the phone? About the night guard position?" he asked roughly, looking down at Mike.

"Uh yeah," he replied, deciding to ignore he had been called a "kid" for the second time. "So that means you're Lawrence…"

"That's Mr. Richards to you. Or sir. Let's get this over with so I can go home," Lawrence grunted, turning away from Mike and towards the back of the pizzeria. "This way, probee."

Mike glared at the man's back. Well then. It looked like one of the rumors was true after all – the manager _was_ a dick.

Once he caught up with Lawrence, the older man had a shirt, tie and pants neatly folded in his arms. "Your uniform", he said, pushing the items into Mike's arms. "And your hat," he added, placing a cap, which read "SECURITY" in the front, on the new guard's head.

Mike took the cap off and looked at it. "Um, is -"

"The hat necessary?" Lawrence pulled up his sleeves. "Yes. So put it back on. Now, this is where you'll be."

He gestured towards the Security Office. It was a small room, with only a desk and a chair as furniture. The desk was crowded with monitors and balls of papers that never found their way to the trash bin. Upon closer inspection, there didn't seem to be one. There was, however, a speaker, a fan and a telephone much alike the one he had at home. Any wallpaper the walls could have were replaced by a large poster featuring the three animatronics and the word "Celebrate!" in large letters and drawings made by children. Not exactly the coziest of offices, Mike thought, but he doubted that saying it out loud would get him anywhere. His comfort was probably very low on Lawrence's priority list.

"Like it said on the newspaper, you work from midnight to six. I suggest you show up early so that our janitor doesn't have to sit around waiting for your shift to leave," Lawrence explained. "What you have to do is use a tablet that's on the desk over there to watch the place. It's connected to all the cameras, but don't bother checking the camera for the kitchen. For some reason, it's the only one that doesn't work."

Mike checked the top drawer of the desk, finding a tablet just like Lawrence had said. Impressive. He hadn't expected a small run-down family pizzeria to have that kind of technology. It was probably where the money to fix the kitchen's camera went to…

Lawrence carried on. "There are buttons on each side of your office that control the doors and the lights. Don't go crazy with them though. We have a limited supply of power, and if you keep opening and closing the doors it can run out. Then the fridges will thaw, the food will be ruined and it will be coming out of your paycheck."

Mike nodded quickly. Why he would be constantly closing and opening the door, he didn't know.

"So, any questions?" the manager asked, looking at the new guard as if he'd punch him if he had any. Mike shook his head.

"Good. Let's get your papers signed so you can start."

* * *

"So yeah, I'm not entirely sure what the janitor's being paid to do," Mike ranted on the phone, as he walked down a hallway. "He's obviously never been in my office."

With only a warning from Lawrence not to touch the animatronics (as if he was a child, seriously), Mike was free to explore the pizzeria until his shift started, though in all honesty there wasn't much to see. Unless he was into creepy drawings made by children. They were spread across the walls, supposedly to show off how much fun the kids had there, but at night, it failed to serve that purpose and only made the place creepier.

"Wow that bad huh?" Claire asked from the other side of the phone. She was the one to call him, wanting to know everything about what he had to do.

"There is a cobweb the size of my _chair_ in the ceiling. I'm pretty sure there's a whole family of spiders living in my office…"

"Hey at least you'll get some company," Claire reasoned. "So… have you seen the animatronics?"

"Yeah. Looking at them right now," Mike responded, looking at the stage.

Now that the families were gone and the place was closed for the day, they stood there motionless and expressionless. Creepy factor increased by 40%.

"I'm not even sure what their names are…" Mike muttered, taking a vague glance at the bunny's guitar.

"Oh, Freddy Fazbear is the leader. The bear," Claire explained promptly. "Bonnie is the guitarist, and then there's Chica the chicken. I think she's supposed to make all the pizza and cupcakes."

Mike paused for a few seconds. "… So you've been here?"

He heard Claire stutter. "W-well, you know, I guess everybody went there even if only once when they were young. I just happen to have a better memory than you."

"Ha ha." Mike looked at his watch. Ten minutes till midnight. "Well I better go. My shift's about to start. Have a good night."

"Good luck!"

He waited for Claire to hang up and then made his way towards his office. He wasn't looking forward to staying a whole six hours in that cubicle, but oh well. Beggars can't be choosers. He sat on the spinning chair and looked around. It looked even smaller from the inside. He glanced at his left, finding two buttons on the wall. One was small and blue, while the other was large and red, helpfully labeled "DOOR". Remembering Lawrence's advertence, he left the buttons alone for the time being.

Taking another annoyed glance at the massive cobweb that hung over his head, he put his feet over the desk and took hold of the tablet that he was supposed to use. Once he powered it on, he was greeted with the camera view of the "Show Stage", with the animatronics still standing there. The bottom right showed a map with all the camera locations, including where his office was, by having it labeled "YOU". He switched over to the other camera views, not finding anything particularly interesting until he came across a room labeled "Pirate Cove".

All he could see there were purple curtains and a sign that read "Sorry! Out of order."

"_What's the point on having a camera there then?"_ Mike thought. He kept looking at it. He had the odd feeling that there was something behind those curtains…

His watch announced it was midnight. Almost all the lights in the pizzeria went off, leaving only his office lit.

**RING RING**

Mike jumped slightly at the sound of a phone ringing. Taking his feet of the desk, he dragged his chair closer so he could look over to the phone.

"_1 New Message"_

"Huh. Guess Lawrence must have forgotten to tell me something…" Mike thought out loud.

Without him doing anything, the message started playing on its own.

"_**Hello? Hello, hello?"**_

Mike's brow furrowed. That definitely wasn't Lawrence. He sounded too nice.

"_**Uh, I wanted to record a message for you… to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact."**_

Mike leaned back on his chair and put his feet back on the desk. Well, what do you know? The guy he was replacing left him a message to help him out on the job. There were still kind people in the world after all.

"_**So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you, there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine! So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?"**_

"Okay," Mike replied. At least he had something to keep him entertained for a while.

"_**Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, i-it's kind of a legal thing, you know."**_

"Boring stuff, yeah," Mike grunted. _"Why am I talking back to a recorded message?"_ he added in his thoughts. _"I must be really bored…"_

The message went on. _**"Um, 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life."**_

Mike glanced at the creepy drawings and cobwebs. "… Sure."

"_**Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or a person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred…"**_

"Wait what?" Mike sat up straight. Did he say _"death"…_?

"… _**a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon as property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and carpets have been replaced…' Blah-blah-blah…"**_

Mike covered his mouth with his hand nervously. _"'Blah-blah-blah' my ass! What is this guy talking about?!"_

"_**Now that might sound bad, I know…"**_

Mike nodded impatiently.

"_**But there's surely nothing to worry about. Uh, the animatronic characters here **_**do**_** get a bit quirky at night, but to I blame them? No! If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay."**_

"_What the hell does he mean with 'quirky'?!"_ Mike thought angrily.

"_**So, just be aware, the animatronics do tend to 'wander' a bit."**_

Mike's eyes widened slightly. "Wander?" he repeated in a whisper.

"_**Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh… something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long… Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was the 'Bite of 87'. Yeah… I-it's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?"**_

Mike was doing his best not to freak out now. That message was full of bad news, but whoever recorded it sounded like he saw it as minor nuisance. How could he sound so nonchalant when he was talking about someone's frontal lobe being _bitten off_?

"_**Uh, now concerning your safety, the only 'real' risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours… probably won't recognize you as a person."**_

"… Yeah?"

"_**They'll p-most likely see you as metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to… forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit."**_

"… Okay?"

"_**Um, now that wouldn't so bad if the suits weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronics devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort… and death."**_

Mike stared at the phone. This guy wasn't normal. He couldn't be.

"_**Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh."**_

"Oh, wow, great. Thanks man, that… that really makes me feel better…" Mike grunted sarcastically.

"_**Y-yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze! I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."**_

The message ended.

Mike stared at the phone for a couple of seconds before grabbing the tablet with unnecessary force and checking the cameras.

The night guard sighed in relief. Phew. The animatronics were still on the stage. What on earth was with that message? The animatronics _moved_ during the night? And mistook people for endoskeletons? How could a robot even think in the first place? It didn't make any sense. Why would the guy on the phone read that _specific_ part of the "Introductory greeting" that mentioned what the company would do in case someone died? Lawrence hadn't said anything about an "Introductory greeting"…

Mike thought for a moment… and then laughed lightly. Oh. So that's how it was.

"_Good one, Mr. I'm-here-to-help-you-out, good one."_

It was a prank. It had to be. All with the rumors that surrounded the pizzeria, it was probably some kind of running joke within the employees or something to leave these "scary messages" behind for newbies. Mike nodded to himself, convinced of his reasoning. There was no way that the animatronics would actually kill someone, and even if they did, the company would never get away with it.

He leaned back on his chair, feeling relieved. For a second there, he actually thought that the animatronics were coming to get him. Ha. How could he have taken that message seriously? Well, at least that guy had a sense of humor. Kind of.

Mike glanced back at the tablet, still amused at his ingenuity, to check the "Show Stage" camera.

Bonnie was gone.

* * *

**[A/N: Ha the fun begins... See, I told you there would be less dialogue! :D**

**Anyway, Phone Guy's message is in bold just to separate it from Mike's thoughts and lines.**

**Also, introducing another OC - Lawrence Richards, the manager. More info on him on later chapters. Probably. ]**


	4. Chapter 3 - First Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

Mike had to take a second glance at the tablet to realize what he had seen – or what he _hadn't_ seen. Bonnie. The large purple bunny was not on the Show Stage anymore. It was gone.

"_Where the – did it move?!"_ Mike thought worriedly.

Okay, so it looked like the guy on the phone wasn't lying about them walking around during the night. Big deal; it didn't mean he was telling the truth about them coming out to kill him, right? Or, should he say, "stuff him into a suit because he's an endoskeleton out of uniform, apparently". But whether or not it was a lie, he had to find Bonnie. It was his job to watch over the animatronics after all.

Mike switched to the Dining Area camera – nothing.

Pirate's Cove – nothing.

Once he switched to the Backstage camera, he jumped in his chair.

"Holy shit…"

Bonnie was standing closely to the camera, its face hiding practically the entire room behind it. Its eyes – which Mike could have sworn were red before – now were completely black save for a tiny white pupil. Maybe it was because of the camera lights…

Mike laughed nervously. "Heh. What'cha doing there, buddy?"

He felt a sudden urge to slap himself. This was ridiculous. There was nothing to worry about – hadn't he decided that the message was a prank? Why on earth was he still looking at Bonnie as if he was half-expecting it to suddenly turn around and rush down to his office? Why did he feel so nervous just looking at the damn thing?

He put down the tablet and looked around him, trying to find something else to focus on. Something on the floor caught his attention.

There were deep scratches leading all the way into his office. How come he hadn't notice them before? It was as if some kind of heavy piece of metal was dragged along the floor. Some scratches looked thinner though… like they were made by someone's _fingernails… _And the carpet looked new. _Very_ new.

Didn't the previous night guard say something about the carpets…? What was it… something like, "if someone dies, they will change the carpets and then file a missing report" or something…?

"Oh get a grip," Mike scolded himself. "The guy was joking!" His eyes instantly darted back to the scratches on the floor. "And he was… obviously very committed to his pranks…"

He gulped, and took a quick look at his watch. 3h31 A.M. It was going to be a long night…

For an hour and thirty minutes, a not-so-chill Mike kept watch on the elusive guitarist as it bounced back and forth between the Backstage room, Cam 2A of the West Hall and, for God knows what reason, the Supply Closet. From time to time, he could see the animatronic actually moving on camera, but it seemed to be very slow in his movements. Sometimes, it even looked like it was struggling to walk – well, they _were_ pretty old. There were other times, however, when it would inexplicably show up in a different room within seconds, as if it had teleported.

To distract himself from its bizarre movement habits, Mike tried to imagine what kind of personality the animatronics would have if they were human. He envisioned Freddy as a proper gentleman, all with his fancy top hat and bowtie; he could see Chica being sweet and bubbly, but prone to lose her temper (like any good chef); as for Bonnie, the night guard imagined it having an excitable and energetic personality. He wasn't too sure about its gender though. Freddy was clearly a male – how many girls named Freddy could there be? – and Chica sounded quite feminine; plus Claire had referred to Chica as a "she". Bonnie, on the other hand, had a feminine name, but looked quite androgynous. For the time being, Mike decided to refer to Bonnie as an "it".

At 5 A.M., said animatronic was once again hanging out at the Supply Closet. Mike shook his head.

"_What is it doing there, winter cleaning? Hey, maybe it could get my office clean…"_

Mike laughed at his own joke, but stopped quickly. No way in hell would he let that thing in his office. Then, as he changed back to the Show Stage camera, which he had neglected to watch for a while, he found something that didn't amuse him in the slightest. Chica was out as well.

"Oh come on…" he muttered, switching through the cameras to find the missing chicken.

He found her in the hallway which led to the Restrooms, looking up at the camera. Why did they do that? It was as if they _knew_ Mike was watching, and were making it clear that they were watching him too. Mike shifted in his seat uncomfortably. That chicken was creepy. He didn't like the way she was glaring at the camera, with her mouth hanging open. "Let's Eat", it said on her bib. Fuck that.

"_Alright, so they're both pretty far away… Nothing to worry about…"_

Just in case, he switched back to the Supply Closet. Bonnie was still there, its eyes fixed on the camera. Mike was just about to put down the tablet, when the camera turned off.

"What the – no, hell no!" He shook the tablet – as if it would get him anywhere – and tapped on it roughly. The camera turned back on, to reveal Bonnie was gone again.

Mike scratched the back of his head. Now that was weird. The cameras turned off _exactly_ when Bonnie moved. Was that a coincidence…?

Ignoring the worrying possibility of Bonnie somehow being able to manipulate the camera feed – or trying to at least – he switched through the cameras to try and find the bunny again. He didn't find it in the Backroom, or Cam 2B.

To his horror, it was nowhere to be found.

Mike looked slowly to his left. He could hear something outside. Was that footsteps…?

He moved his hand slowly towards the blue button. And pressed it.

Immediately, the left entrance of his office was illuminated to reveal the large purple animatronic standing there, leaning forward as if it was attempting to get in. Its eyes were wide open, and its mouth was slightly agape.

The night guard screamed and slammed the door button. The large metal door closed down on the animatronic with a loud noise. Mike got up from his chair and stepped away from the door. Bonnie was there. It was _so_ there. And it was clearly trying to get in. For what purpose?; he didn't want to think about it. It took a good couple of minutes and a couple of circles around the chair for Mike to calm down. He sat back on the chair, and took a deep breath.

"_Alright. That was… creepy, I admit. But it's fine. You're fine. The door is closed, no problem."_

Mike nodded to himself and picked up the tablet. Chica was still in the restrooms. Freddy was still in the Show Stage, unmoving. He had it under control. As long as he kept the door closed to prevent Bonnie from getting in, he would be just…

6 A.M.

The night guard's watch announced the end of his shift. He sighed in relief. First night done!

"_Thank God for that…"_

He stretched in his chair and checked the tablet one last time before leaving. Bonnie and Chica were both back on the Show Stage, as if they never left at all.

* * *

***4 Days Ago***

"Wait, wait, wait… So they _move_?!"

Mike nodded as he sipped on his drink. "Oh they move alright. One of them almost got inside my office. I had to close the door on its face."

Now that Mike was back home, he was feeling much more relaxed. No doubt it was the absence of creepy robots trying to break in that had him in high spirits.

The young man in front of him whistled and grabbed his own drink. "Man, if it was me I know that I'd be freaking out, for real," he said laughing.

"_Yeah about that…"_ Mike thought. He had strategically decided not to tell his friend about how much _he_ freaked out. His reputation was on the line after all.

"So, like, the guy that worked there before you just randomly left you a message?"

"Yeah, I think he was trying to pull a prank on the new guy. Trying to scare me shitless or whatever…" Mike explained.

"Well, it's a good thing it was you in that office and not Ray then," Claire stated as she sat next to Mike. "The poor janitor would have to get a new chair afterwards, imagine that…"

Mike snorted into his drink while Ray laid a hand in his chest, faking an expression of deep pain.

Ray Thomas had been his friend for over 10 years. Easily impressed and not known for his scholar knowledge, Ray was more gullible and easy to scare than Mike, and was always one-step away from straying into the wrong path. He was very laidback and fun, however, and no matter how much trouble he got himself into, Mike and Claire couldn't help but like him. They both knew that if they needed something, Ray would do anything in his power to help them out.

"Seriously, though, isn't it dangerous to let the animatronics wonder around like that?" Claire asked.

Mike shrugged. "The message said something about how they couldn't be turned off for too long. I guess some parts of that message were true, I dunno…"

Claire stared at him for a while. She didn't look as convinced as he was. "Are you one-hundred percent sure that message was a prank?"

"Oh come on…" Ray sighed. "Of course it was! I mean killer robots? You can't believe that shit, Claire…"

"I just don't think that someone would actually go through the trouble of making up all of that and leave behind a message just for the sake of a prank. And one that isn't even that funny." Claire crossed her arms, leaning back on the couch. "Why would anyone joke about people being killed and their deaths being covered-up by the company they work for? That's horrible!"

Ray shook his head, clearly amused at Claire's refusal to see the obvious. "You girls just have a different sense of humor from us guys. I think it's pretty funny."

Claire glared at him. "Oh. So guys watch documentaries on war and their victims and _laugh_ about it?"

"Don't compare the two things!" Ray put his hands up, as if it wound protect him from Claire's glare. "C'mon Mike, help me out here. Control your girlfriend!"

Mike looked back and forth between Ray and Claire. "… No, I'm staying out of it. You guys sort it out…"

He didn't want to say it, but Claire was right. It _was_ a pretty lousy joke now that he thought about it. It was one thing to lie about the animatronics trying to kill the night guards, but to actually go one step further and lie about the company covering up their employees' deaths just to keep the business running? That was just wrong.

"Now look at what you've done. You've made my man second-guess himself!"

Ray's comment made Mike snap back into reality. "What was that?" he stammered.

"Don't worry about it, man. I'm sure it was just a joke. Even if it was bad," Ray added, nodding to Claire to appease her. It didn't work. "Just go back to work today and you'll see. Whoever left you that message will probably leave you another one apologizing or whatever. Hell, even if the robots do get in your office, they'll probably just throw you a party or something."

Mike and Ray laughed at the thought, leaving Claire to sigh and shake her head at their carefree-ness.

"Boys…"

* * *

At 11 P.M., Mike drove to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, feeling even less enthusiastic about his job than before.

Even though he decided to take a warrior's nap that lasted all afternoon, he was plagued by memories of Bonnie at his left door, Chica glaring at the cameras, and even random visions of the animatronics stuffing some guy in a suit. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that guy was him, which led him to wake up with a jolt and fall off his couch.

He walked inside the building, rubbing the back of his neck, and made his way towards his office. He quickly realized, however, as he was walking past the Show Stage, that he was being watched.

He glanced at the animatronics, almost fearing what he would see, but they didn't look any different from the previous day. Maybe he was just being paranoid…

"Why hello there."

Mike turned around abruptly, accidentally throwing his keys away with the shock and bumping on the stage as he backed away. Bonnie wobbled slightly and his keys hit the side of Chica's face, falling on the floor.

"Augh shit," he hissed, rubbing his back as he glared at the man that had greeted him.

An old man, at about his fifty's, was looking at Mike, clearly amused, with a mop in his hands. His bald spot made him look like a monk. It looked like he was cleaning the floor of the Dining Area, which was right in front of the Show Stage.

"Hi," Mike grunted.

"Sorry if I startled you, son. I know how this place can get you on edge," the old man said.

"Yeah…" Mike agreed, still rubbing his back. "You're telling me… So you must be the janitor."

"That I am. Jim Taylor, at your service." He picked up the night guard's keys and handed them to their owner.

"Thanks. Well, you can see what my name is…" He pointed at his name tag.

"Mike Schmidt…" Jim read aloud. "You wrote it in yourself I see."

"Yeah, the one they gave me had my last name spelled wrong, so I changed it…" Mike only wished he could get a penny for every time someone misspelled his last name.

"Well, I hope you stay with us for a long time, son. The one before you made it for four months; I thought for sure he was going to stay here permanently…" Jim said, resuming his floor moping.

Mike followed him. "How many night guards were there?"

"Unfortunately, quite a considerable number. They never lasted long, except for the last one. Usually two, three days. Such a shame too. Some of them had their whole lives ahead of them…"

"You make it sound like they died or something…"

The janitor looked at him. He made a small smile that made Mike shiver. "Now why would you say that?"

Mike didn't reply. He wasn't too sure if he liked this man. Jim didn't wait for an answer and turned back to his moping. The night guard took that as an opportunity to end the suddenly disturbing conversation and headed towards the exit of the Dining Room. He was just about to leave when Jim talked again.

"I would take those messages the last night guard left seriously if I were you, Mike Schmidt. When a man whose time is running out does his best to prevent the same from happening to someone else, the least you can do is listen."

With that, Jim disappeared into the darkness, leaving Mike alone, feeling as if the air around him had gotten suddenly very cold. As he walked into his office to wait for his shift to start, he could hear Jim singing.

"_London Bridge is falling down,_

_Falling down, falling down._

_London Bridge is falling down,_

_My fair lady…"_

* * *

**[A/N: I should give a penny to Mike too. I misspelled his last name so many times before ;_;]**


	5. Chapter 4 - Second Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

Almost midnight.

Checking the cameras, Mike could see Jim passing by the stage. The janitor took one long look at the animatronics before leaving, closing the door behind him. Mike himself stared at them for a while. Jim's words were still fresh in his mind, playing over and over like a song on repeat.

"_I would take those messages the last night guard left seriously if I were you, Mike Schmidt. When a man whose time is running out does his best to prevent the same from happening to someone else, the least you can do is listen."_

Mike looked at the phone on the desk. As much as he tried to tell himself that it was all just a big joke, he couldn't shake off that unnerving feeling that something was off. What did Jim mean, "a man whose time is running out"? The last night guard recorded that message on his last week; could that be it?

Once his watch announced midnight, the phone rang again. He expected it. The guy did say he would send another message the next day after all. Probably to apologize for the bad joke he pulled on him. Yeah.

As with the first message, the new one started playing on its own.

"_**Uhh, hello? Hello?"**_

"_Hey listen, uh, sorry about that last message, heh. It's just a running joke around here, you know. Uh, I-I hope you didn't take it too seriously…"_

Those were the words Mike was hoping to hear next, at least. But no such luck…

"_**Uh… well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats! I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk, just to make sure everyone's on their proper place, you know…"**_

Mike punched the desk annoyed. That guy was still insisting on that? Both him and Jim were obviously doing their best to freak him out – and succeeding, though he refused to admit it. What was the point? What would they gain out of it? He almost felt tempted to turn off the phone, but decided to listen to the rest of the message for curiosity sake. Glancing at the tablet, he could see that all three animatronics were still on the Show Stage.

"_**Uh… Interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often."**_

"Good," Mike muttered, glaring at the bear animatronic.

"_**I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's another reason not to run out of power, right? Heh…"**_

Mike shook his head. _"Whatever…"_

"_**I-I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside your doors. So if-if you can't find something – or someone – on your cameras, uh, be sure to check the door lights."**_

"I know that!" Mike snapped. He had found out the hard way the previous night… Goddamit Bonnie.

And speaking of Bonnie…

The robot was no longer on the stage along with the others. It seemed that he was always the first one to leave.

"Oh for fuck's sake…" The night guard switched through the cameras angrily. The bunny – who he now knew was supposed to be male – was resuming his routine of hopping from the dining area to backstage. Mike rubbed his temples. Bonnie got off the stage earlier than he had before. So they _did_ become more active as the week progressed… Shit.

"_**Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react… Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course. I-I'm not implying that…"**_

Mike glared at the phone.

"_**Also, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time."**_

"What, why?" As far as Mike remembered, that place was out of order. At least that's what the sign said…

"_**The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched, I don't know…"**_

Mike checked on Bonnie again before checking Pirate Cove. There it was – "Sorry! Out of order".

"'_Out of order' you say… Bullshit!" _he hissed in his thoughts.

Now he was seriously annoyed. Lawrence hadn't told him about a fourth animatronic! How was he supposed to know there was something_ else_ to worry about there?

His animosity towards the person who recorded the message decreased significantly. Even if it was a joke – and Mike was still holding on to that possibility – the guy was still giving him fair warning about everything he would have to watch out for. Mike put down the tablet to listen to the rest of the message.

"_**Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control."**_

"_Yeah right…"_

"_**Uh, talk to you soon!"**_

The message ended, and Mike took in a deep breath.

Alright, so now he knew what to expect from all animatronics, including the "extra" that no one thought to warn him about – bunch of pricks. Bonnie and Chica seemed to be the most active, if the past night had been any indication, and according to that night's message, Freddy became more active in the dark. No problem there, as long as he didn't run out of power. And finally, whatever was hiding in Pirate Cove would only get more active if he didn't check him enough. Sneaky bastard, uh?

Mike stretched his arms and picked up the tablet. Bonnie was not backstage anymore, or in the supply closet. It was now on the west hall, standing at the very far end of the hall like a furry Jason Voorhees staring down his next victim. Mike's eye twitched. _Why was he comparing the animatronic to a horror movie villain?_

As he checked the stage, he saw that Chica was gone as well. Mike couldn't find her anywhere, and so he nervously reached for the door light buttons on both sides and clicked them. Both entrances were immediately illuminated.

Nothing.

Sighing in relief, he looked for the chicken again. Nowhere to be found.

"Where the hell is she?" he wondered.

Suddenly, he remembered. The kitchen! Lawrence had told him the kitchen's camera didn't work, so that had to be where Chica was. Now that he thought about it, it only made sense – she was supposed to be the chef after all.

Mike took in a deep breath and leaned back on his chair. He had another long night ahead of him…

* * *

The rest of the night went by a tad too slowly for his liking. It was as if the clock was ticking time away slower than usual on purpose.

Bonnie and Chica seemed to be constantly going back and forth instead of heading straight towards his office – thankfully – as if they were deciding whether or not to pay him a visit. There was one particularly stressful moment when the cameras turned off again, and when they turned back on, both animatronics were dangerously close to his office. Mike ended up closing both doors just to be on the safe side (not because he was scared or anything…), but none of the animatronics felt like challenging his bravery any longer and went back fairly quickly. Freddy remained on the stage, though Mike was pretty sure he saw him look at the camera once. At least it seemed like whatever was hiding in Pirate Cove wasn't feeling like coming out that night, as there was no movement there whatsoever.

Mike felt a bit relieved. That night wasn't going so bad, all things considered. Sure, he did not enjoy the way Chica stared at the cameras, and was even more confused at Bonnie's weird movement patterns, but it could be worse. At least he only had two of them to worry about for now.

It was 5 A.M. when he heard it.

"_Da da dum dum dum, da da dum…"_

Mike's feet slipped off the desk. "The hell was that?!" he asked to no one, taking a quick look at both doors. It didn't seem to be coming from nearby. Was that someone singing?

"_Da da dum dum dum, da da dum dum…"_

That was most definitely someone singing. Judging from the voice, a male. But who?

The night guard looked through all the cameras – Bonnie was again very close to his office, he should probably close the door; Chica was back at the Kitchen, since he could hear clanking as if she was messing around with the cooking utensils (could she be actually cooking there…?); and Freddy was still on the Stage. As he checked the Pirate Cove camera, however, he noticed the singing seemed to be more audible. He put the tablet close to his ear. The singing was definitely coming from there.

Mike scratched his head. Well, that was fine by him. If the damn thing felt like singing, he wouldn't be the one to tell him to stop. The singing wasn't bad either, and it actually helped him feel less stressed. Now he wondered why that place was out of order. If the animatronic was good enough to sing, why didn't it perform along with the others? He would have to ask Claire, she seemed to know more about the place than he did.

* * *

***3 Days Ago***

"You seem to be in a good mood today."

Mike smiled as Claire sat next to him on the couch. "Last night went better than expected. I think I'm getting the hang of it."

Indeed it had. Asides from that one scare with Bonnie and Chica "flanking" him, nothing too bad had happened.

Claire opened a magazine she had in her hands and smiled back. "So they didn't bother you this time? The animatronics, I mean."

"Oh yeah, they still moved around. Bonnie and Chica both got really close to my office, but I closed the doors on time. Freddy never moved. According to the messages he just moves around in the dark or whatever," Mike reported, looking at the TV as it showed a red-haired doll slowly turning its head towards a woman that was passing nearby. "God that thing is creepy…"

"Freddy or Chucky?" Claire asked as she read her magazine.

"Both. By the way, do you remember if there was a fourth animatronic? Like, a pirate or something…?"

Claire looked up from her magazine and frowned, trying to remember. "You mean Foxy? I thought he was discontinued…"

Mike shrugged. "I wouldn't know. But there's a Pirate Cove thing there that is out of order, and the Phone Guy said that the character that's there could still move around. All he did last night was sing though."

"… Who's Phone Guy?"

He chuckled. "The last night guard. You know, the one that left me the messages," he clarified. "I don't know what his name is, so that's the nickname I came up with. I mean, since I only hear his voice on the phone, I thought it made sense..."

She stared at him. "How very clever."

He ignored her sarcasm. "Thanks. But never mind that, do you know why that Foxy thing was put out of order?"

Claire resumed reading her magazine and shrugged. "I'm not sure… I heard some stories about him being 'unstable' and 'unpredictable' but we never know what's true or not nowadays… I guess you'd have to ask your boss."

Mike huffed. "As if that asshole would tell me anything. And I can't ask the janitor either… he'll probably tell me all the horror stories about how Foxy only comes out to murder night guards or whatever…"

He felt Claire shift in her seat. "I still don't like that whole story about the night guards, Mike. Don't you think that maybe you should try to contact that 'Phone Guy' and clarify things?"

"What, and give him the satisfaction of showing I fell for it? I'm fine, Claire, don't worry about it." He noticed her stern look. "Honest! Your man is tough, he can handle it."

He put an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. Claire smiled and didn't press the issue again, but he knew she wasn't convinced. Until she had irrefutable evidence that it was indeed just a joke, it was very likely she would keep worrying. Maybe he should just try to contact the guy. Not only would it reassure Claire, but it would reassure him too. Even though he didn't show Claire, he too had some doubts about the whole thing. Hopefully all of their worries would be lifted after a talk with "Phone Guy". That, if he could talk with him.

* * *

A few hours after dinner, Mike had another night of work ahead of him. He was feeling more confident this time – the last night hadn't gone that bad after all. Once he got to the pizzeria, he headed straight towards his office and took off his hat. He never wore it anyway (what Lawrence doesn't know won't make him snap…). There were a still a good couple of minutes left to his shift, but there really wasn't anything for him to do.

Except…

Mike picked up the tablet and searched for the camera of Pirate Cove. The curtains were, naturally, closed, and the sign was still there. Well, it couldn't hurt to go check it out, could it?

He made his way towards the dining area, looking at the other animatronics once he got there and spotting Jim as he hummed something, re-arranging the tables. Mike didn't bother with greeting him, as he seemed to have headphones on. Plus, he didn't feel like talking to the janitor. That weird conversation they shared the previous night was still bothering him.

Instead, he headed towards Pirate Cove, located at the bottom left of the dining area. He took some time to admire the curtains, embellished by stars and sparkles. Not a very pirate-ish decor.

He held the curtains apart, and blinked. Now _this_ was more like it.

The stage was made in the shape of a pirate ship, complete with pirate flag and sails. There was a small area enough for about 7 or 8 children to be seated comfortably in front of the stage, with a couple of treasure chests on a corner. Probably filled with plastic gold coins.

And sitting on the "ship" was a fox animatronic, looking at the floor. He had a hook hand and an eye-patch covering his right eye. It seemed like he hadn't been fixed in a while, judging from his suit, which had a few scratches and portions where the endoskeleton was visible.

"_So that's Foxy the pirate, eh? Looks like he would be pretty popular amongst the kids if they tried to fix him…" _Mike thought.

Just as he closed the curtains, getting ready to return to his office, he heard a voice.

"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do, my dear…"

Mike turned his attention to the stage. Jim was standing in front of the stage, with his headphones off. He was looking in front, at the animatronics.

"_What is he doing…?" _Mike thought, raising an eyebrow.

Jim shook his head lightly, still seemingly aware of Mike's presence. "We both know that it won't do us any good if he leaves. He will just be replaced by someone else."

Mike frowned, watching Jim closely. Was he…_ talking_ with the animatronics? No, that couldn't be… Maybe he was talking on the phone?

The senior chuckled. "Oh, I see. You _like_ this one don't you?" He paused. "Interesting. Well, all the more reason to keep him around, no? Maybe he will be able to help."

Mike looked back and forth between the animatronics and Jim. It really did seem as if Jim was talking with them, and judging by the way he spoke, he seemed to believe _they were talking back_. Poor guy. A little too old to be having imaginary conversations, but…

Jim talked again, this time sounding sorrowful. "Now don't blame yourself for that, sweetheart. That was not your fault. You did everything you could." Another pause, a bit longer than the other one. "He was a very brave man. Not many would have stayed for as long as he did. Four whole months! A true record. Maybe this new guard will stay even longer, we never know…"

Mike's eyes widened slightly. _"Wait a second…" _Four months? That was the time "Phone Guy" stayed on the job, according to Jim. And _he_ was the "new guard"! What on earth was going on?

"I don't think you're giving him enough credit. I honestly have high hopes for that young man. He's being mentored by the best, after all. Trust me – you and your friends will finally get your much deserved rest soon."

Jim moved towards the stage with a small smile. A comforting smile. "You'll see, my dear. This nightmare will be over soon. Don't worry…"

Mike didn't know what that conversation was all about, but he was ready to end it. He cleared his throat loudly enough for Jim to hear. Immediately, Jim looked back at him. He did not seem surprised or shocked to see him there.

"Why hello, Mike Schmidt. Back for another round?"

The night guard walked over to Jim carefully, still apprehensive about the conversation he just eavesdropped to. "I sure am." He pointed at the animatronics. "They talking back?"

Jim smiled. "If you're willing to listen."

Mike stared at Jim. What a weird guy. "Sure. Hey, I have a question. About Pho – uh, I mean, the night guard before me. Do you happen to have his number or something? I'd like to talk to him."

Jim stared back at him. His smiled faltered a little. "What for?"

"You know, thank him. For the messages. They've been helpful." Well, they were. That much was true.

The janitor looked at him for a few seconds. He then took out a small notebook and flipped through the pages, looking for something. Once he found a particular page, he ripped it out and handed it to Mike.

"There it is, son," he said.

Mike read the number on the page, and the name. _Phil Grayson._ Heh, his initials were the same as "Phone Guy"! If there was a God, he sure loved irony.

"Go ahead and call the number. I doubt it will do you any good." Jim sighed, turning away to leave.

Mike looked at him. "What do you mean?" He regretted making the question immediately. He was willing to bet anything he owned on that the answer would be ominous.

But Jim didn't answer. He disappeared in the dark hallway. Mike wasn't sure whether he had heard him or pretended not to. With one last look at the piece of paper he was now holding in his hands he rushed back to his office. He didn't want to stay there alone with the animatronics longer than he had to.

He sat in his chair and folded the notebook page in half before putting it in his pocket. Throwing his feet on the desk, he leaned back and picked up the tablet, waiting for his shift to start. Tomorrow, he would call "Phone Guy" – no, _Phil Grayson_, and hopefully get all of his answers. Hopefully.

Little did he know that night would not go as smoothly as the other ones...

* * *

**[A/N: Hello again :D If you want to see how Mike Schmidt, Claire Shepherd and Lawrence Richards look like, you can go to my DeviantArt account (link on my profile) and go to the gallery folder "Five Nights at Freddy's". See ya next chapter!]**


	6. Chapter 5 - Third Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

"Any minute now…"

Mike tapped his foot on the desk waiting for his shift to start. He had the tablet resting on his lap and his hat was carelessly placed over one of the monitors.

At midnight exactly, the phone rang, as expected. Mike made no motion towards the phone and instead took one wary look at the tablet. All three animatronics were still there.

The message started playing on its own, like always.

"_**Hello, hello?"**_

"Yeah, yeah…" Mike kept looking at the tablet, this time checking on Pirate Cove. Why did Phil always start his messages like that?

"_**Hey you're doing great!"**_

He snorted, thanking Phil Grayson inwardly. _"Funny, a person I don't even know is more supportive than my father…"_

"_**Most people don't last this long!"**_

Mike looked at the phone.

As if guessing his look, Phil added quickly: _**"I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now… Uh, I'm not implying that they died. Th-that's not what I meant…"**_

"Of course…" Mike shook his head, noticing Chica was no longer on the Show Stage. "Hey… how come she left first this time…?"

Worriedly, he looked for her on her usual hang-out places, finding her near the restrooms.

"Stop glaring at the camera, goddamit…"

"_**Uh, anyway, I-I better not take up too much of your time. Things start getting real tonight."**_

"I'll say," Mike agreed, noticing something else that alarmed him. "Bonnie is out already too!"

"_**Uh… H-hey, listen, I had an idea: if you happen to get caught and want to avoid getting stuffed into a Freddy suit…"**_

"I'd like to avoid that, if possible…" Mike muttered annoyed as he found Bonnie standing on the far end of the west hall, obviously getting ready to try and enter his office. Again. They were starting to move around much earlier than the previous nights.

"_**... uhh, try playing dead! You know, go limp. Then there's a chance that, uh, maybe they'll think that you're an empty costume instead."**_

Mike took a quick look at the phone confused before checking Pirate Cove again. Could that work? Would the animatronics really be fooled by that? Couldn't hurt to try…

The curtains in Pirate Cove were still closed, and Mike could hear the same song from the previous night faintly.

"_Da da dum dum dum…"_

"Da da dum dum dum to you too."

Then, something happened that prevented him from listening to the rest of the message properly.

As he checked Cam 2B just to see if Bonnie had gotten there yet, he noticed something strange. There was a poster there, but it looked different from the other nights. Usually, the poster depicted Freddy Fazbear with his microphone and the words "LET'S PARTY". But that's not what the poster looked like now.

Now the poster showed a close-up of an animatronic bear, but it wasn't Freddy – it was yellow, and had no eyes.

He narrowed his eyes at the sight. _"What the… why did they change the poster…?"_

He stared at the poster, and then heard something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"**it's me"**

Mike jumped on his chair and almost dropped the tablet. "The fuck was that?!"

What did he hear? Someone saying "It's me"? It sounded like a robotic voice, with a lot of static in the background. And, was his mind playing tricks on him, or could he also hear a _little girl giggling_ as well?

He shook his head. _"The creepiness is getting to you man… You're hearing things…"_

"**iT's mE"**

There it was again. How weird. The voice felt… familiar somehow…

Shrugging that feeling off, he took one quick look at Pirate Cove, Bonnie and Chica before looking up from the tablet. His eyes widened as he saw something that most definitely _wasn't _in his office before.

A yellow animatronic bear, with no eyes, just like the one from the changed poster in Cam 2B. Sitting on the desk, looking down on him, wires falling off his mouth and eye sockets.

"**IT'S ME"**

"HOLY SHIT!"

In a panic to get away from whatever that thing was, he leaned backwards in a way that made the chair spin and tumble, taking him with it. He rolled on the ground, then leaning on the wall opposite to the desk, with the tablet in front of him as if it was a shield.

But the bear was gone.

"_Wait where the hell is it?!"_

Mike looked nervously around him, as if expecting to see the bear hiding somewhere, waiting for an opportunity to strike. His heart was pounding so hard on his chest it was almost like it wanted to burst out and run away.

"What the fuck – what…" Mike took several deep breaths to try and calm down. Phil didn't warn him about that!

The message was still playing, though he hadn't heard anything from the point when he noticed the poster had changed.

"_**Um… Okay, I-I'll leave you to it. See you on the flip side."**_

Then Mike realized it. The night guard felt his insides freeze and twist. The voice that was saying "It's Me"… now he knew why it sounded familiar. It sounded like Phil, but more robotic…

"What the hell…"

He didn't have the chance to think any further about it. Checking the tablet he was now holding with trembling hands, he noticed both Bonnie and Chica were gone.

"Shit," he hissed, checking the door lights.

As he anticipated, the bunny and chicken were both lingering outside his office. The night guard closed the doors promptly and sat on the chair again, wiping the sweat off his face.

He checked Cam 2B again. The poster was back to the old one of Freddy and his mic. Wait, how?

"_Wait a minute, how is that possible?!"_

He wasn't resting his feet on the desk anymore, or leaning on the chair. He was hunched over the tablet, nervously tapping his feet on the floor. He didn't feel safe. For the first time since he had started the job, he actually felt like his life was in danger. Whatever that yellow bear was, it was not natural. He didn't want to think _supernatural_, seeing how little he thought of that kind of thing, but there didn't seem to be any logic explanation as to how it simply materialized itself into his office.

Mike checked the door lights to see if Bonnie and Chica were gone. Bonnie was no longer at his door, but Chica was still there, staring at him with her eyes wide open. He opened the left door and turned away from the right one, not wanting to look at the chicken's overly creepy expression.

He checked Bonnie's whereabouts before going back to check Pirate Cove. His heart nearly stopped.

Foxy was almost out.

"What the – when did that happen?"

Damn, he hadn't checked Pirate Cove enough! He was so worried about the yellow bear that he completely forgot he had to watch Foxy to keep him from coming out. The curtains were pulled apart, and Foxy was leaning out turning on what was obviously the direction of Mike's office.

Mike put down the tablet. No. That night was being way harder than the others. Phil wasn't kidding when he said things would get real that night. How did that guy manage to stand four months of that crap, anyway? What was he, Chuck Norris?

"_Fufufu… Fufu…"_

For what seemed to be the third time in one night, the night guard jumped on his chair and looked back at the right door. There was an eerie deep belly-laughter coming from the right side…

"Who the hell just laughed?!" he asked out loud to no one.

Well, when he thought about it, the answer was obvious. And upon checking the Show Stage, he saw he was right: Freddy. He was out as well. Well shit.

"Augh God why do you hate me…"

Mike lamented his bad luck as he checked every single camera to find where the laughing bear was. He couldn't find him anywhere. He checked the right door light to find Chica stubbornly waiting outside. When was she going to leave?

He looked at the tablet again to find Bonnie in the supply closet again. Good, he could stay there all night if he wanted.

Then he checked Pirate Cove. Foxy was not there.

"Shitshitshitshitshit -"

Mike checked the camera of the west hall just in time to see something that caused his fourth near-heart attack that night.

Foxy was _sprinting_ towards his office.

"SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT -"

He had no time to use his hands. He stomped on the button with his foot to close the door. Seconds afterwards, someone banged on the door.

Mike raised his eyebrow. Was that thing _asking_ to be let in? What kind of idiot would he be if he opened the door?

"Fuck off, Foxy! I'm not opening the door!" he yelled, trying to sound braver than what he felt.

"_Fufufu…"_

"Yeah and I don't care about you laughing either…"

* * *

"C'mon 6 A.M. why is this night lasting so long goddamit…"

Mike's feet were tapping so much on the floor he wouldn't be surprised if they caused an earthquake. For four hours he had been keeping watch on Foxy, Bonnie, Chica and Freddy, and for four hours he had enough scares for a whole franchise of horror movies. Chica was now lingering on his door for much longer, and was the main cause behind the current condition of power.

10%. Ten _freaking_ percent.

Bonnie had shown up very frequently, but left almost immediately. Foxy left Pirate Cove one more time, but was now back behind the curtains. Where he belonged, as far as Mike was concerned. Freddy, on the other hand, was still a mystery. Mike had no idea where the bear was. He couldn't find him anywhere, but he never showed up at his door either. All he could hear was his laugh, which caused him to shiver every time he heard it.

"C'mon 6 A.M... I'm so ready to go home…"

The clock had just announced 5 A.M. about 20 minutes ago, but that didn't stop Mike from hoping his shift would end quickly. He now wished he had paid attention to that night's message. Maybe Phil _did_ say something about that yellow bear but Mike just didn't listen? Not that he was to blame, who wouldn't freak out after seeing that abomination?

**THUD**

The night guard jolted out of his chair and looked at his right. Chica was at his door again, but this time she had her hands pressed against the window. Her expression was the same as ever, but her eyes kept darting from Mike to the left door.

"What the…" Mike closed the right door, then proceeding to take several steps back.

The chicken's hands slid down as he stepped away, making a sickening squeaking sound. Her beak was trembling as if she was trying to say something. What was it with that thing?

"… _zzo… ghee…"_

Mike stopped dead in his tracks. She was talking. At least, trying to. What could she be trying to say? "Hey, sorry about scaring the crap out of you these past nights, let's be friends"?

"… _go… agh… weh…"_

Mike shook his head and looked at the tablet. That thing was probably breaking down. He just hoped they wouldn't blame it on him.

"Damn it where's Bonnie?" he asked aloud, checking the cameras.

"… _bee… hind…"_

Mike looked up at Chica. "… What?"

The chicken's body twitched. _"… be… … hind… … you…"_

Mike looked behind him slowly, for some reason finding it difficult to breathe now. He was standing right in front of the left door, which was open. And Bonnie was right there, looking down at him.


	7. Chapter 6 - Signs

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

It only took a split second for Mike to know he was not going to be able to close the door this time.

He stared at Bonnie, and Bonnie stared back at him. The animatronic's eyes were wide open, as always, but instead of making the bunny look threatening, it gave the impression that he was absolutely horrified. Not as horrified as the guard in front of him, though.

"Shit…"

That was about as much as he could say before the animatronic grabbed both his arms with a strong grip. The tablet was thrown in the air as the guard struggled to release himself, having very little results. The animatronic was clearly much stronger than him, dragging him out the office with seemingly little effort. As much as he kicked and squirmed, the purple bunny was having no problems with pulling him across the west hall.

"Let – me – go!" Mike yelled, trying to push his arms away from Bonnie's grasp at every word. His breathing was becoming irregular from the struggle and the fear. All of the guard's experience in fighting was not serving him much here; he had never fought against a robot before after all.

Bonnie kept looking at him with the same horrified expression, making an odd noise. It sounded like he was trying to talk but his throat was restricted by something. Mike looked back as he kept fighting against the animatronic's strength, seeing where he was being dragged to – the backroom.

_Fufufu… _

Freddy emerged from the backroom, walking solemnly towards the hall as he carried an empty suit. He took off his hat as if showing his respects for the departed and looked up at Bonnie and Mike.

His stomach shrank to the size of a peanut. It wasn't a prank. All of Phil's warnings were true. He was going to get stuffed into that suit if he didn't get away from Bonnie.

He doubled his efforts, a rush of adrenaline aiding him on increasing his strength. The animatronic stopped moving, and for a second, Mike thought he was actually succeeding on fighting it off.

But he was wrong.

Bonnie was looking in front, his look of horror still present. As Mike followed his look, he saw it. That yellow bear again. But this time, he was standing, and his empty eye sockets had a faint golden glow. The guard's eyes locked in with that faint glow. Then, something told him, he wasn't sure what, that he was not there to hurt him.

The yellow bear took one step.

"**IT'S ME"**

It was as if a train had suddenly crossed the hall. A strong wind made some of the drawings displayed on the wall fly away. The floor, walls and ceiling vibrated as if there was an earthquake. Bonnie staggered back, finally letting go of Mike.

The guard took the chance to get away from the bunny, looking back at him for a split second. The bunny no longer looked horrified, but saddened, staring at the yellow bear. Mike staggered towards the yellow bear, who did not move from his spot, apparently waiting for him. Mike looked up at him, panting. The yellow bear moved his head in his direction.

"… **Go"**

With that, the yellow bear dissipated in a golden mist. Mike didn't wait for him to reappear and sprinted towards his office. But he wasn't the only one. He could hear heavy steps running just as fast after him. And there was only one animatronic, as far as he knew, that could run.

He reached the door just in time for a sharp pain on his shoulder to confirm the identity of his chaser. A hook had managed to stab Mike's shoulder, and Foxy was attempting to pull him away from the office's door. He winced and looked back to glare at the fox animatronic.

The animatronics were not gonna have their way this time. Mike used his other hand to yank the hook away and reverse-kicked Foxy. Weakened from years of disuse, the animatronic obviously did not possess the same strength as Bonnie and was thrown back against the wall. Mike entered the office, punching the door button.

The door closed. The guard fell on his knees, holding his injured shoulder. It was bleeding abundantly. Yanking the hook off like that only made the cut worse. But it didn't matter. At least he was alive to heal it off.

He got up slowly, breathing heavily, and picked up the tablet, which had miraculously landed on the chair. Freddy was gone again, and Foxy was back in Pirate Cove. Bonnie was still in the west hall, in the same spot where Mike had left him. He was staring at the ground. Slowly, the bunny moved his hands and buried his face in them. It almost looked like he was crying. But why? Did he feel sorry for almost killing Mike?

And to think he had spent the past three days thinking it was all a big joke. He knew better now. If that night had served for something, it was to show him just how _real_ everything was. Phil wasn't lying. The animatronics really would kill him if he didn't take things seriously. Phil and the other guards weren't just chilling at the office, recording scary messages for fun. They had all fought for their lives there. And some had died… Phil fought them off for four months, and even recorded messages for the next guard while he was doing it. But he wasn't the only one who had tried to warn Mike…

He glanced at his right, and turned on the door light. Chica was still there. She blinked when she saw Mike. Her expression wasn't much different from before, but now there seemed to be a glint of relief in her eyes.

"… You warned me…" the guard muttered, still looking at the chicken. "You warned me about Bonnie…"

The chicken looked at the monitors. Mike looked at them too. He only had 3% of power left. Great. Just what he needed.

He sighed and made some pressure on his shoulder. Now that the adrenaline was fading away, it was hurting more. He would have to get it checked. It was only going to get Claire worried…

He checked his watch. 5h57. Well, at least there were only three minutes left until the end of his shift.

Mike leaned back on the chair. He was surprised with himself. He didn't feel scared anymore. He could only guess that the job was making him tougher – all of those scares did do some good after all.

There wasn't much else he could do at that point but wait. That yellow bear probably wouldn't show up to save his ass again. What was that thing anyway? He didn't know what to make of him. He had disappeared, just like… a _ghost?_ His voice sounded so much like Phil's… And he had managed to make Bonnie get away. Mike glanced at the tablet again. Bonnie still had his face hidden in his hands, standing on the west hall. Could it be that he didn't mean to attack him? Could there truly be something wrong with his programming that made him do it?

His train of thought was interrupted by a loud sound. The lights went off. He had run out of power.

There was no way he could keep them away this time. He couldn't close the doors now, and he was injured. If he had struggled to fight off Bonnie completely healthy, there was no way he'd get away from him in his current condition. Remembering that Phil had suggested he'd try playing dead if he got caught, he went limp. He hadn't even thought about trying it before, when Bonnie was at the door, but then again, the bunny had seen him move, so it probably wouldn't have done him any good.

Music then started playing. A cheerful music, that sounded eerily out of place. Mike recognized it as being a song called the "Toreador March" or something. His mother loved those kinds of classics, operas and the sort. He had grown up being forced to listen to them, which, naturally, made him hate them with a passion.

Accompanying the music, there were a pair of eyes and teeth flickering in the darkness. Mike could guess who they belonged to – Freddy. He stayed still. He wasn't going to move. It didn't matter how much his shoulder ached. It didn't matter that he was getting the chair stained with blood. He was not going to move. He was going to glare at that stupid bear for an hour if he had to…

But he didn't have to.

6 A.M.

Never before had Mike loved the sound of his alarm ringing more. He almost laughed with relief. He turned his gaze towards the right door, in time to see Chica walking away. He checked the tablet. Bonnie was still on the west hall, but now he was making weird gestures. He repeated the same gestures three times, staring at the camera.

Mike frowned. What was he doing? They were supposed to move back to the stage at 6 A.M., right?

"… _Is that sign language?"_ he thought.

He had no idea what Bonnie was trying to say, since he didn't know sign language. He opened the two drawers on the desk, looking for a notebook. There was one on the right drawer, along with a pen. He wrote down the description of the gestures Bonnie was making and ripped the page out. Chica had tried contacting him, so Bonnie was probably doing the same. Even though the bunny had almost killed him, Mike wanted to know what they were trying to tell him. It would probably be helpful information for the next guard.

Yes, because Mike had no intentions on staying on that job any longer now. He was not going to risk his life for 120 dollars a week. Once he got his shoulder taken care of, he would return to the pizzeria to tell Lawrence he quit. He was done with that place.

* * *

***2 Days Ago***

Mike stared at the white ceiling for a long time, waiting. The hospital was packed with patients. Doctors and nurses were running back and forth to attend every single one of them. No one seemed to be in serious condition, asides from that guy who had gotten into a bad car accident. From what Mike had heard, the car that hit him had gotten away by the time the police arrived.

"How is his condition?" asked a male doctor with a mustache.

The other doctor shook his head as they both passed Mike. "We lost him. Both him and his son. A fifteen-year old…"

Mike took his eyes off the ceiling to look at the two doctors. Damn, fifteen? And the bastard that hit them ran off…

"Michael Schmidt?"

He looked around to see who had called him. A female doctor with brown short hair smiled at him and gestured for him to follow her. He got up and followed her towards one of the rooms, sitting on a chair.

"Injured shoulder?" the doctor asked.

She had a very attractive face and a pleasant voice. While she bent over to check Mike's shoulder, she placed a hand on her belly. Her belly was a bit round, and seemed out of place considering her figure, so he suspected she was pregnant. Her name tag read _"Patricia McKinley". _

He nodded as response to her question.

"How did that happen?"

Mike thought for a second. The honest answer – "I was attacked by a pirate robot that stabbed me with his hook" – sounded stupid, even in his thoughts.

"I, uh… got into a fight…" It was kind of true…

The doctor looked at him. "Break in?"

"Excuse me?"

"Was there a break in? At Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?"

Mike stared at her. "How do you know I work there?"

She smiled. "That's the night guard uniform. My brother was a night guard there too, so I know how it looks like."

"Oh…" He took a quick glance at the sleeve of his shirt, turned to shreds. He hadn't even thought about it – Lawrence would not be happy about his ruined uniform… Not that it mattered, he wouldn't be working for him anymore… "No, there wasn't a break in… it was on my way home…"

He looked at the doctor while she cleaned his wound. So her brother had worked as a night guard as well? Hopefully he wasn't one of the "missing" ones…

"The wound is a bit deep, but as long as you don't exert yourself, it should heal just fine. No exercising, no using your right arm, for at least one week," the doctor ordered. She wrapped bandages around his shoulder and turned to her desk. "And… take some analgesics, and these just to avoid any possible infection." She showed him a paper which had the names of the pills he was supposed to take.

Mike nodded, standing up as he received the prescription. "Alright, thanks doctor."

She smiled as he left, closing the door behind him. He poked his shoulder lightly. It ached a little, but it was nowhere near as painful as it was an hour ago.

He made his way out of the hospital, passing by the pediatric section. There was only a woman there, next to what Mike assumed to be her son. She was translating what the nurse was telling her to her son by using sign language. The kid was deaf.

Mike suddenly remembered. He took out the piece of paper in which he had written down the gestures Bonnie had made and walked towards the woman, just as the nurse went away.

"Excuse me, ma'am…" he called.

"Yes? May I help you?" She took her son's hand, who looked up at Mike in interest.

"Sorry to bother you, but, I saw you using sign language to talk to your son… Do you think you could translate these?" He showed her the piece of paper.

She nodded. "Certainly…" She took the paper and read it carefully, while Mike looked at her son. The little boy immediately beamed at him. Mike made a small smile in response, but focused his attention on the woman.

She finished reading and returned him the paper. "Well, I don't know in which circumstances you received this message, but what they were saying was something along the lines of: 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please don't hate me'."

Mike was taken aback by that translation. Bonnie was _apologizing_. 'Please don't hate me'… That part almost made him feel sorry for the bunny. He remembered the way he seemed to be crying after Mike had gotten away from him. He was getting more and more convinced that both Bonnie and Chica didn't really mean any harm, but were for some reason forced to go after him.

But what could be controlling them…?

Oh well. It wasn't his problem. He threw the paper with Bonnie's sign language away once he got out of the hospital. He found, however, another piece of paper in his pocket. The one with Phil's phone number. He had completely forgotten about that.

Mike picked up his phone and dialed the number that was on the paper. He might as well try and talk with him. It rang for a while.

No response.

"_Hm… must be busy. I'll try some other time,"_ Mike thought.

* * *

"Come again?"

Lawrence stared at Mike from his desk. His expression was blank, but his eyes were slightly wide in surprise.

"What you heard. I quit," Mike repeated, staring back at Lawrence. It was difficult. With the older man's sharp eyes, it was like staring at an eagle.

The manager raised an eyebrow, his face now showing an expression of unimpressed disbelief. "Well, I have to say I'm surprised. Wasn't expecting a kid who's so full of himself to just quit."

Mike's eye twitched. "Not a kid."

"You do realize that a night guard's job is to ensure others' safety, right? It is to be expected that you may, along the line, sustain some injuries. Yet you're quitting over that little cut?" He gestured at his injured shoulder vaguely.

"'Little cut'?" Mike repeated annoyed. He then pressed his hands on the desk, bending over so his face was leveled with Lawrence's. "One of those fucking animatronics _stabbed_ me. They attacked me, just like they attack every single night guard here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lawrence grunted. He was obviously enjoying the opportunity to mock the new guard.

"Oh you sure as hell do. The last guard left messages – yeah, that's right," he added triumphantly as Lawrence looked at him surprised. "He told me _exactly_ what you sick bastards do when a guard dies and warned me about the animatronics. If it wasn't for him, I would have died on the first night!"

Lawrence recovered from his surprise and glared at Mike, his eyes cold as ice. The latter moved away from him out of instinct. "Now that would have been a shame," he muttered, in a slow and calm voice.

Mike stared at the manager. Half of him wanted to punch him, while the other half wanted to run away from him. What was it with this guy?

The older man went back to his standard don't-give-a-shit-about-your-problems attitude in an astonishing speed. "But, if you want to quit I'm not going to cry for that loss. It's not up to me to decide what you do with your money…"

Mike narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Lawrence smirked. "You _did_ read the contract you signed, right?"

The guard felt his heart tightened. No, he hadn't. In the excitement to get a job, he hadn't even paid attention to what exactly he was signing…

Lawrence correctly interpreted his expression. "My, my. You kids are always so brash and hasty, you didn't even read it…"

"Not a kid."

The manager reached for one of the drawers and took out a contract. Mike recognized his signature at the end, and was now mentally kicking himself for not having taken the time to read the contract carefully before writing his name on it. How many times had his father warned him about that?

"If you could be so kind as to read the… fourteenth paragraph." Lawrence handed Mike the contract, the smirk still on his face. "Aloud," he added.

Mike glared at the manager before taking the contract roughly from his hands. He looked for the fourteenth paragraph. The letters were small, but not small enough to be unreadable.

"'By signing this document, I agree to the terms of sigil, which invoke that I do not share with anyone outside the company whatever takes place within the premises during my shift, unless explicit consent is given by the manager. I also agree to complete at least a week of work, without interruptions. Not abiding by any of these terms will result on a fine of'…"

The guard's eyes widened in shock, as he felt a wave of anger rush through him. "…'twelve thousand dollars'?!"

"I tried to write everything with simple vocabulary, so that you couldn't complain about not understand the terms…" Lawrence commented, looking casually at his watch. "So, if you want to quit before completing a week, I suggest you…"

"I'm not paying shit!" Mike snapped, interrupting Lawrence. "You can't force people to stay here under the threat of having to pay this ridiculous amount of money!"

"According to that paper, I can. You signed it," Lawrence retorted. "It's not my fault you didn't take the time to read it."

Mike looked at Lawrence angrily, clenching his fist so that he wouldn't end up punching him. He had no choice. It was his mistake, and now he had to pay for it. He didn't have that kind of money, so he had no choice but to complete his week…

"Fine," the guard said finally. "Fine. I'm not quitting. I'll end my week, but once that's over, I'm out of here."

"Right, right." Lawrence took the contract back and put it back on the drawer. "Oh, and I trust you did not share with anyone what happens during you shift? Because if you did, you'll be paying anyway."

Shit. He had told Claire and Ray… he had told them that the animatronics moved, and about the messages… He would have to lie and say that they _were_ in fact a prank and that he was not in danger…

"I know…"

Lawrence nodded. "Good. Now, if that is all, I have more to do than listen to your whining. And you better get that shirt fixed, because I'm not giving you a new one."

Mike turned his back on Lawrence, his body shaking from the immense self-control he was exerting on himself.

"_Do not punch him… do not punch him… do not punch him…"_

Once he got out of the pizzeria, he took in a deep breath. He would have to return that night, regardless of the condition of his shoulder. He really was in a tight spot. Of course it could only happen to him…

He picked up his phone and tried calling Phil again. Maybe he could help…

Again, no response.

"Damn," Mike hissed under his breath. Maybe he had a new job and was working? For someone he had once nicknamed "Phone Guy" he sure didn't pay attention to it…


	8. Chapter 7 - Fourth Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

"Michael Schmidt, you better tell me _exactly_ how that happened."

Mike dared a side glance at Claire, who was using her most piercing stare to get an answer out of him. She had one hand in her hips while she pointed at his injured shoulder with the finger of her other hand.

He knew he should have seen it coming, but answering to her justified worries as to how he had injured his shoulder was proving to be difficult. Especially because he had to lie to her face. He couldn't tell her the truth – that was not an option. She would never be quiet about it.

"I already told you, a couple of idiots showed up out of nowhere when I left the pizzeria and -"

Claire made a huffing sound of impatience. "Right, now tell me the _truth_."

He feigned an offended look, hoping to God that it would look convincing. "That _is_ the truth! Why would I lie to you?"

Spotting her impatience growing, he stood up and spoke before she could. "Look, it's nothing really. They probably wanted to break in and mess things up, but I took care of it. This…" He gestured vaguely at his injured shoulder. "… is nothing. They ended up much worse."

"_Yeah right,"_ said a voice in his head.

Claire crossed her arms. Her eyes darted from his shoulder to his face. He felt relieved. Her look wasn't accusatory anymore; she seemed convinced.

"Did you report it?" she finally asked, now sounding concerned.

No. "Yes," he replied, nodding. "You're gonna have to fix the shirt though. Lawrence made it quite clear he's not getting me a new one."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm really starting to not like your boss," she said, turning around to get her sewing supplies.

Mike snorted. "That makes two of us… Oh by the way…" He gulped, feeling his heart tighten as he got prepared to tell her another lie. "I finally got in touch with Phil. Um, 'Phone Guy'…"

She looked up at him with her sewing needle in hand. "Really? What did he say?"

He shrugged, trying to look amused. "He apologized for the whole thing. Just like I thought, he wasn't expecting anyone to take it seriously…"

Claire sighed and shook his head. "I can't believe he went through all that trouble to just prank someone…"

"I know, right?" Mike attempted a chuckle but stopped in time. The way his throat was dry, it would only sound fake. "The guy probably didn't have anything else to amuse himself with…"

"Well, I'm relieved." She smiled as she approached him. "Thank you for contacting him just to appease your silly girlfriend. Give me your shirt."

He gulped again. Now he _really_ felt guilty… and scum, for making Phil sound like a stupid prankster with too much time on his hands…

"Yes ma'am," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

He took off his shirt and watched Claire sit on the couch, getting ready to fix the sleeve. It felt horrible lying to her. He never had to lie to her in five years of dating, and was not enjoying doing it now. But if he told her the truth, she would probably do something drastic, like telling it all to the cops or something. He couldn't risk that. He was pretty much convinced Lawrence had a plan in case authorities were warned – someone must have tried blowing the whistle before, and if the place was still running, Lawrence must have managed to cover the whole thing up. What could Mike do about it, other than finishing his week? Question was: would he survive that long…? If he wanted to last two more days, he couldn't just fight off the animatronics without a plan. He needed a strategy.

* * *

After hours of evaluating everything he had faced in three days, including the movement patterns of the animatronics, he felt pretty confident about his plan. He had to take in consideration the limited supply of power as well – he could not let it run out like it had last night. He wasn't sure if he would luck out again.

As he walked inside the pizzeria, he went through his strategy one more time in his thoughts. All he had to do was check the cameras 2B and 4B, which showed the area nearest to his office, to make sure Bonnie and Chica were not there. Next he'd check the door lights and Pirate Cove. As far as he knew, that was all he really had to do. It wasn't really necessary to check the other cameras – it would only waste valuable power. He still didn't know where Freddy hanged out, but checking the door lights and Cam 2B and 4B should be enough to keep him out.

A small part of him hoped that the yellow bear would appear again. Judging from the previous night, he wasn't hostile. Maybe if he was around, he would have something else to help keep the animatronic away.

He headed towards the office straight on. He was not going to bother with checking the animatronics or even Jim. This time, he would try calling Phil again. It was kind of late, but if he was working during the day, then maybe he could only get in contact with him at that hour.

Mike sat on the chair and placed the tablet on his lap, ready to start putting his strategy to use once his shift started. Then he took out his phone and called Phil again.

It rang for a long time, and it seemed like no one was going to pick up again.

"_Oh come on…"_ Mike thought angrily. _"He has to check his phone eventually…"_

Just as he was ready to end the call in frustration, he moved his phone away from his ear. He could hear music…

A faint circus-like music… where was it coming from?

He had heard it before the other nights, but had never thought much about it. He had just assumed that it was the animatronics' doing. He ended the call and the music stopped.

He blinked. Was that a coincidence…?

Mike called the number again. There was that circus music again… He ended the call once more. The music ceased.

"What the hell…."

That could not be a coincidence. That music played every time he called Phil. Every time… Then the thought hit him. _Phil's phone was in the pizzeria… _But why would he leave his phone behind after he stopped working there?

His watch announced the beginning of his shift. Mike shook those thoughts away to focus solely on his strategy. He grabbed the tablet and got ready for the phone to ring.

It did, and after a while that night's message started playing. Mike checked Pirate Cove quickly.

"_**Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day four… I knew you could do it…"**_

He looked at the phone with a frown after checking Cam 2B and 4B. Phil didn't sound the same as usual. He sounded tired…

"_**Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow…"**_

Then, to the guard's horror, he heard banging sounds. Out of instinct, he looked at his left, recognizing it as being the distinct sound of someone knocking on the door. But he had his door open, so it couldn't be on his office… He shivered. It was on the message – Foxy was knocking on the door when Phil recorded that message. And why wouldn't Phil be around to send him a message? His week wasn't over yet, and – Mike felt stupid for admitting it – but he needed his guidance. He suddenly felt like a kid wanting his dad's advice and turned his direction to the tablet again. He didn't even know the guy, for Christ's sake…

"_**It's-it's been a bad night here… for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you…"**_ Phil cleared his throat. _**"… uh, when I did."**_

Mike took quick glances at the phone, his feet tapping on the floor again. He did not like the sound of that. He did not like it one bit.

"_**Uh, hey, do me a favor…"**_

"Anything you want," he muttered, checking Cam 2B and 4B.

More banging sounds were heard. That was odd, Foxy didn't linger that long at his door. Then again, Phil was on his last week, the level of aggression on the animatronics' part must have been off the charts after four months…

"_**Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room?"**_

He looked up at the phone for a second before checking Pirate Cove and closing the left door – Bonnie was at the entrance. Why would Phil want him to check the backroom? There was nothing there other than… empty suits. The ones where the animatronics stuffed the guards…

Mike took in a deep breath, realizing the implications of that request. His heart started pounding in his chest, aching at each beat. No, he couldn't… that couldn't mean…

"_**I'm gonna try to hold out until someone… checks… Maybe it won't be so bad."**_

The young guard shook his head in horror, now feeling like he was gonna be sick. "No… no way…"

"_**Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there… You know…"**_

The "Toreador March" started playing. Mike dropped the tablet back on his lap, staring at the phone with his mouth agape in pure horror as to what he was hearing. He knew that music was coming from the message. And that could only mean one thing… but it couldn't be… Phil couldn't be…

A weird, inhuman moan was heard. The hairs on the back of the guard's neck stood on end, and his eyes widened. _What the hell was that?!_

"… _**Oh no…"**_

Those were Phil's last words. A loud robotic scream cut him off, almost piercing Mike's ears, and the message ended.

He stared at the phone horrified for what felt like hours, though it was in reality just a couple of seconds. He had just heard Phil's last message. Phil's _dying_ message. That man had died ensuring that he would get his messages, his warnings… Phil was dead. By the time Mike started working there, he was long gone… And he wanted him to find him. But by now, he was sure they had already gotten rid of any evidence of his death.

He buried his face in his hands, forgetting that he was supposed to watch the animatronics.

"Goddamit… He's dead…"

"_Fufufu… fufu…"_

Mike looked up from his hands, turning his head towards the right door. That was Freddy. And he was _laughing._ The son of a bitch was _laughing._

Anger took over all feelings of nausea and sadness. "You think that's funny? You thought that last message was amusing, did you?" he snapped, picking up the tablet again. "Well I have news for you, you piece of shit. You're _not_ gonna get me!"

He glared at the tablet, returning to his strategy, and opening the left door once he ensured Bonnie was not there anymore. He was angry, he was sad, all at the same time. Did Lawrence listen to the messages? Probably not, he seemed surprised when Mike brought them up. Because if he had, and decided to keep them, he would only turn out to be even more of a bastard than Mike thought. He was going to make it through the night. He was going to make it through the week. They were not gonna get him.

"… **it's me…"**

Mike didn't jump this time. That familiar voice only made the sadness overcome the anger. He looked up to see the yellow bear sitting on the desk, staring back at him. Now he knew why he sounded like Phil. That _was _Phil_. _After years of refusing to believe ghosts were real, he was now face to face with the proof they were. He was looking at a ghost. The ghost of his mentor. That's why he said "It's me"… so he would know who he was, and that he was not going to hurt him…

"Hi Phil," he greeted, his voice trembling a bit. "I'm… look, I'm…" He gulped, having no idea how to complete that sentence.

The yellow bear moved his hand towards his tablet, moving it so it blocked Mike's view. Mike looked at the screen, seeing Chica on Cam 4B.

"… **going back to work"** said the yellow bear, completing Mike's sentence for him as he tapped on the tablet.

Mike made a sad smile. It was probably for the best. He would probably start crying if he kept looking at him for too long. Once he looked up again, after checking on the animatronics, the yellow bear was gone. No. _Phil_ was gone.

* * *

Probably because he had bothered to actually put some thought into how to keep the animatronics away, Mike felt the night go by much quicker than usual. His strategy was proving to be very effective – it was almost 6 A.M. and he still had 19% left.

Foxy had left Pirate Cove three times, and he managed to find Freddy lurking in the bathrooms once he actually decided to look for him while Bonnie and Chica stood outside his office – all he could see where white pupils, but since Chica was somewhere else, it could only be the elusive brown bear. Though, the reason why he chose to hide in the _girl's_bathroom was still a mystery.

There was something else, however, that was bothering him. Bonnie and Chica were starting to act really weird. Right after the message from that night ended, both animatronics were having even more problems with the simple task of walking. Plus, they sometimes banged their heads against the wall, shaking uncontrollably while staring at the camera. Mike thought that they were probably trying to fight against whatever was controlling them to attack. He didn't know if Freddy and Foxy were also controlled by this mysterious force, but he could only assume they were.

Phil didn't appear in his office again. Probably he knew that Mike had it under control this time thanks to actually having a strategy, instead of freaking out like a moron and wasting power. He could feel his presence sometimes though. At least, he assumed it was him whenever the air felt cold for no reason. Wasn't that a thing that always happened when ghosts were around?

The clock announced 6 A.M. Mike put the tablet back in the drawer and stood up from his chair. He had one place he needed to go to before heading home.

His feet led him towards the backroom. Phil had asked him to go check the empty suits, thought the guard doubted he would find anything there. Once he got inside, he looked around, feeling uneasy. Several eyeless masks stared him down from the walls, and many empty suits sat limp on the ground. Like corpses. They had all a faint tint of dark red, and Mike could guess why. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"What did you want me to find…?" he asked aloud. "Phil…?"

He felt a small breeze pass him. One of the empty suits twitched and opened its hand. There was something there. Mike bent over next to the suit and looked at its hand. It was a phone.

The guard picked it up and pressed a button. The screen turned on. The text _"27 missed calls"_ could be seen, along with a photo of two boys. One seemed to be a teenager, while the other was probably around 8 or 10. They were very similar, so they should be siblings. They were smiling at the camera, and the teenager had his arm playfully around his younger brother.

Mike closed his eyes, feeling yet another wave of sadness. Those were Phil's kids. And if the company's policy was put to use, they had no idea what happened to their father. They never knew he had to fight for his life for four months, or that he was killed there.

He squeezed the phone in his hands. He had to return that to his family, even if he couldn't tell them what happened to him.

"_I hope his kids aren't home…"_ he thought. He didn't want to face them. He would feel like a complete asshole for not telling them what he knew about their father's fate.

How could Lawrence keep the guards' families in the dark like that? How could he just lie to them, telling them they went missing, instead of giving them closure and telling them what happened? If it was him… he would want to know. No matter how horrible the truth was, he'd want to know.

The guard stood up and left the backroom, heading out of the pizzeria quickly, deciding he would return to the pizzeria that afternoon to try and put some sense into Lawrence. It felt like a horrible idea, and it was probably safer to poke a bear in the eye than to test Lawrence's patience two days in a row, but he had to try. Surely that man _had_ a heart? Like… somewhere? If all else failed he'd just show him the phone and hope the image of those two kids would make him rethink his attitude.

In the hurry of getting out of there, Mike didn't even see Jim as he walked past him.

The janitor followed the guard with his eyes as he walked down the street, until he was out of sight. The senior smiled and walked inside the pizzeria, making his way towards the backroom. He immediately spotted the empty suit that once held Phil's phone in his hand.

He shook his head, smiling. "Now you've done it. Was it really wise to give him that, my dear?"

"… **He wanted him to find it…"**

Jim didn't need to look back. He knew the yellow bear was standing right behind him. The one once called "Golden Freddy", now nothing more than an apparition.

He chuckled, amused as he recognized the voice. "Still using his voice, I see… That is only going to confuse the poor boy, I think. He seemed very distraught when he left."

Golden Freddy didn't answer, so Jim carried on. "Now that he has his phone, it's only a matter of time until he finds our dear Phil Grayson. I believe that will only make him feel less inclined to leave."

He turned to face the ghostly bear, looking into the faint golden glow that replaced his eyes. "I thought you _wanted_ him to leave…?"

Golden Freddy looked at him. **"I can keep him safe"**

"Indeed. He wouldn't have made it through yesterday if it weren't for your intervention. Is the other one still around?"

The bear nodded. **"He kept watch today"**

Jim nodded back. "Good, good. We need all the help we can get. This dark presence has been growing more and more persistent. I'm afraid I won't be able to ward him off for much longer…"

He sighed and looked back at the empty suits. "… How I despise the color purple…"


	9. Chapter 8 - Family

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

***1 Day Ago***

For hours, Mike stared at the phone in his hands. He couldn't get his eyes off the screen. The photo of Phil's kids stared back at him, and even though they were smiling in the picture, it felt like they were accusing him with their eyes. Accusing him of not telling them what had happened.

Despite his best efforts to sound normal and cheerful when he got home, Claire had noticed something was off. She kept asking him what happened but he ignored all her questions and locked himself in the room, claiming he needed to sleep. But he didn't sleep. He felt like he would never sleep again. Instead, he just kept staring at the screen of Phil's phone. As to get courage or inspiration for what he wanted to do next.

"Mike…?"

He didn't answer Claire's call, even after she knocked on the door lightly, pretending he was still asleep. It was probably better to ignore her rather than end up snapping at her. She didn't say anything else. He heard the front door open and then close. She had left.

He stood up and walked outside the room. There was a note on the table. It was Claire's handwriting.

"_I went to work. I'll be back for dinner. Love you."_

"I love you too…" he muttered, putting the note back on the table. Now more than ever, he felt like he didn't say it enough. Claire never asked for much, or demanded attention, even though she deserved it. Why couldn't he say it out loud when she was around…? He should have given her so much more…

But right now, he had to take care of something. He had to talk with Lawrence. And from what he had seen so far of his boss, he was starting to think the animatronics were the least of his worries…

* * *

The pizzeria had more customers than usual that day. There were four families in total enjoying their time there when Mike walked inside the building. His eyes immediately darted on the direction of the show stage.

The animatronic band was performing, as usual, singing the same songs. He took some time to watch them perform. Those robots, as dangerous as they were to him at night, seemed perfectly harmless during the day. He could only guess that whatever made them attack only did so at night.

"Hey Mike," someone greeted.

Mike looked over his shoulder to see a boy a little older than him, wearing a security guard uniform just like his. He nodded. "Hey, Stewart."

Stewart Morris was the day guard at Freddy Fazbear's. Since during the day he didn't have to worry with the animatronics, Stewart was much more positive and satisfied with his job. From what he heard, he was about to complete his second year. He seemed like a laidback and responsible guy.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

Mike looked back at the stage before walking over to Stewart. "I need to talk to Lawrence."

The day guard raised his eyebrows in an expression of dread. "Again? I wouldn't bother him two days in a row if I were you…"

"I know, but it's important. I really need to show him something…" Mike squeezed the phone he had in his pocket.

Stewart sighed. "Alright, it's your funeral… I'll go first – to check what kind of mood he's in…"

"Isn't he always in a bad mood?" Mike snorted, following the day guard towards Lawrence's office.

"Well yeah, but there are different variants – there is 'I want to watch the world burn' mode, then the 'I would kill you right now but can't be bothered with cleaning afterwards' mode…"

He stopped in front of a door and knocked.

"What?" was the bored answer he received.

Stewart frowned and then turned to Mike with a knowing look. "I think he's in the 'Why can't you guys just fuck off and let me sleep' mode right now…"

Mike nodded grinning. "I see. I think he will shift to 'watch the world burn' mode or whatever once he knows it's me again though."

The day guard grinned back and shrugged. "Oh well. Don't worry, I'll attend your funeral."

"Gee thanks…"

"How long are you two going to make out at my door?" Lawrence grunted from his office, obviously having heard their voices. "There are kids outside, you know?"

Mike glared at the door, feeling the urge to punch Lawrence return in spades. Stewart simply chuckled.

"Mike Schmidt wants to talk to you, boss," he said.

Lawrence groaned. "Send him in…"

Stewart patted Mike's shoulder. "Good luck. Use the force, man."

The night guard opened the door and walked in. Lawrence was at his desk, rubbing his temples.

"So… What is it this time? Twisted ankle? No, wait – a paper-cut," the manager sneered, not bothering to look at him.

Mike gathered all his self-control again. _"Don't punch him…" _"No. I'm actually here to talk about something else." He took a deep breath and took out Phil's phone from his pocket, placing it on the desk in front of Lawrence.

Lawrence raised an eyebrow looking at it. "I appreciate the offer, but this is not going to get you a raise."

The night guard rolled his eyes. _"Don't punch him…" _"This isn't a bribe. That phone belonged to the night guard before me. You should know him – Phil Grayson?" He glared at him. "Worked here for four months? Had _two kids_?"

The manager looked at the phone again. His expression was blank, like a carefully manufactured mask that he used when he didn't want others to tell what he was thinking.

"I know exactly who Phil Grayson is. Where did you find this?" he asked, pushing the phone towards Mike as if he didn't want anything to do with it.

"The backroom. I want to know what happened to him." Mike kept glaring at Lawrence defiantly, this time refusing to accept the idea of leaving that office without the answers he wanted.

"He quit," Lawrence grunted, leaning on the chair.

Mike's eye twitched. _"DON'T punch him…"_ "Like hell he did! I heard his last message – last night – he was attacked by the animatronics! They… they killed him! And you are hiding everything! From the cops – shit, screw the cops, you're hiding it from them!" He picked up the phone and almost rubbed it on Lawrence's face, forcing him to look straight into the screen, which showed the photo of Phil's kids.

A small part of him braced himself for the thunderstorm that was to come.

Surprisingly, the thunderstorm never started.

Lawrence did not sneer at him or snap. In fact, he looked at the screen with a deep frown. His eyes had an odd glint that wasn't there before. They darted towards one picture frame he had on the desk for only a split second, before darting back to the screen.

Mike was wondering what photo he had on said picture frame when the manager stood up without warning, sighing. He walked towards the door. "I need a smoke."

For a second, Mike thought he was going to ignore the question all together. He was going to argue about it when Lawrence spoke again.

"Come with me, kid."

Mike blinked and stared at Lawrence. Well, that was unexpected… Maybe using the kids' photo had been a good move after all.

He followed the manager outside, passing by Stewart, who looked at him with a confused frown. Mike shrugged and shook his head, showing he was just as confused as him. Once outside, Lawrence took out a cigarette and lit it. The night guard watched as the older man looked at the sky, smoking, apparently deep in thought. Grey clouds of smoke hovered away from them.

"So… are you going to answer my question?" Mike attempted carefully.

Lawrence looked at him from the corner of his eye sharply. Mike waited for him to reply, patiently. He was not going to leave without answers, especially after the manager adapted such a surprising attitude.

The older man sighed. "You're one persistent kid, I'll give you that."

Mike said nothing, and kept waiting for the answers he wanted.

"Phil Grayson didn't finish his last week," Lawrence finally said. "On his fourth night, we found him in the backroom."

The night guard held his breath. He knew what would come next… he had been found in a suit…

"He was still alive, but just barely. The doctors have no idea how he managed to make it to the backroom with all the blood he lost…"

Mike's eyes widened. "Wait, wait – he was still alive?!"

Lawrence looked at him with a slight glare that clearly said "No interruptions allowed". Mike took the hint and closed his mouth.

The manager carried on. "From what we can tell, he was attacked on the kitchen…" He grunted something under his breath. "Hell if I know what he was doing there in the first place… Anyway, he somehow dragged himself to the backroom and locked himself in. Yes, he's still alive," he added, annoyed, as Mike was obviously getting ready to interrupt. "He's on the hospital right now."

He looked at the guard, who had his mouth slightly open in surprise. "There. That's what happened."

Mike looked at the phone in his hands again, feeling extremely relieved and happy. Phil was alive. He was _alive!_ He managed to survive the attack somehow… But then… who was that yellow bear? He had Phil's voice… he thought that was Phil's ghost but if he was alive then it had to be something else…

"There's something you need to know about how this place runs, probee," Lawrence said suddenly, still smoking as he looked at the sky. "Who do you answer to when something goes wrong?"

Mike blinked, surprised by that question. "Uh… you, right?"

"And who do you think _I_ answer to when something goes wrong?"

The night guard took a while to answer. He hadn't even thought about that. Lawrence ran the pizzeria, but the building was part of a franchise – of course there was someone else who ran the whole thing.

"The… owner of the company?"

Lawrence looked at him, nodding slightly. "Exactly. If something happens here that could ruin the whole company's image, it's on me. I have to take care of it, I have to take the fall and _I_ lose everything." He paused, his eyes looking sharp and intimidating again, though the feeling did not seem to be directed at Mike. "And I can't afford to lose this place."

The night guard stared at Lawrence for a while. It had never crossed his mind that he was also under pressure by someone.

"I don't cover up people's deaths for fun, kid," he added. "I didn't make the rules in your contract either. There is no other choice if I want to keep this place open. Trust me, I would much rather make sure those kids had a proper funeral, but my hands are tied."

Mike nodded. He didn't agree with it, but he had to try and understand it. Lawrence obviously had his reasons to be so adamant about keeping the place open. Still, it didn't justify how much of a prick he could be…

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "You made a question. I chose to answer."

"Not about Phil, about the company. You don't exactly look like the sociable and talkative type… no offense," he added quickly, as the manager's eyes narrowed.

The black-haired man took a while to answer. "Because you're the first one to want to know. All the others either quit or didn't last long enough to make questions. Plus, if I didn't explain today you'd just bother me again eventually."

Mike wasn't sure if he believed his matter-of-fact answer. There was some other motive behind it, but he chose not to push his luck. "Phil didn't ask questions?"

Lawrence sighed. "You sure are interested in Phil. Don't tell me you're in love."

Mike glared at him, which only made him smirk, amused. "He had worked with the company before, so he knew how things worked. Actually, he's been with this company longer than I have."

The night guard frowned. Phil knew about everything, from the company to the animatronics, and still chose to stay? Why would he do that? It seemed like everyone in that place had their own ulterior motives to stick around… Except him, who was in it for the money. It seemed kind of lame with that perspective…

"Now, if that's everything, I have a pizzeria to run." Lawrence threw what was left of the cigarette away. He sighed again and looked at Mike. "… Don't die on me, kid."

Mike stared in slight amazement at what his boss had just said. Wait… was that something _humane_ that just came out of Lawrence's mouth?

"It's a drag to have to change carpets every week, so just avoid getting any blood on them, alright?" the manager requested, just as he entered the pizzeria, leaving him alone outside.

The night guard glared at the man's back, growling slightly. _"DO. NOT. PUNCH. HIM."_

* * *

"What do you mean, he's not here?"

Mike stared in disbelief at the hospital's receptionist. Certainly there had been a mistake…?

"Sir, there is no Phil Grayson in our list. He is not committed to this hospital," said the receptionist, repeating the exact same sentence she had just told Mike a second ago in the exact same tone.

The night guard didn't believe one word she was telling him. She had answered him in a quick and monotone voice, as if it was a rehearsed phrase. Something was off.

"Look, I just want to see how he's doing, so can you please…"

"Sir, I already told you he's not here. You're holding the line." The receptionist nodded in the direction of the long line of people that were standing behind Mike, waiting for their turn.

He gave up and turned around to leave, not without glaring at the receptionist of course. Lawrence had told him Phil was in the hospital, so why the hell was the receptionist lying to him?!

He looked around, desperately. There had to be a nurse or a doctor that could give him a truthful answer, right? They couldn't all be hiding Phil Grayson from him, whatever dark reason was driving them to do so.

Suddenly, he turned around. He could have sworn he felt a tug in his shirt. He looked down but saw no one. Huh. He must have imagined things… Once he looked up, he jumped back. He had almost knocked into someone.

"Michael Schmidt?"

The doctor that had taken care of his shoulder the previous day was right in front of him, looking at him with a smile.

"Oh, hello doctor… uh…" Mike tried to remember her name while trying to see it on her name tag at the same time.

"McKinley. Is your shoulder alright?"

"Yeah, it's, uh… how do you…?" He frowned, surprised that she still remembered his name.

"I've always been good with names," she replied calmly. "And you work at Fazbear's so… What brings you here, then?"

Mike looked at Phil's phone, which he was still squeezing in his hand for some reason. "I, uh… was looking for a patient, but the receptionist won't…"

"Where did you get that?"

Mike looked up, startled by the doctor's sudden question. She was looking at the phone he had in his hands with an odd expression.

"This…? I found it…"

"Where?" She took a step towards him, and it almost looked like she was going to hit him.

"Hey, listen, I'm just looking for the owner," Mike explained quickly, worried at how she sounded. The woman was pregnant, wasn't it bad for them to get stressed out or something? "I was told he's here, but the receptionist just keeps saying 'he's not here, he's not here'…"

"I asked her to do that," Dr. McKinley revealed, now looking at Mike. "That is my brother's phone."

The night guard let his jaw drop. "You – you're Phil's sister?"

"Grayson is my maiden name. You knew my brother?" she asked, taking the phone from his hands without receiving any resistance. He was too shocked to notice.

"I, uh, no, not really, but he… he left messages to help the next night guard with the job, so…" Mike stammered, holding his head with one hand. He was afraid his brain would explode with all the revelations he was getting on one day. What a coincidence! Who would have thought that the doctor who had treated him was related to the guy he was looking for?

The doctor smiled sadly. "That sounds like him… Always worried about how everyone else was doing instead of focusing on his own problems… They never found his phone, I was wondering where he left it…"

"So Phil _is_ here? Can I see him?" Mike asked eagerly.

Dr. McKinley looked at him for a while, evaluating him. "… I asked the receptionist to lie because I didn't want any nosy reporters hassling my brother. Or worse, someone from the company…" She sniffed. "But you seem genuinely concerned about him. Alright, follow me."

* * *

They walked through several corridors, each less illuminated than the one before it. When Dr. McKinley led him to a dark corridor that seemed abandoned, Mike looked around with a raised eyebrow.

"Nice place…" he commented, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

"It was the best place to keep him away from unwelcome visitors. Asides from you and my nephews, I only accepted two other people here," Dr. McKinley informed.

"Is his condition… bad? Or is he almost recovered?"

The female doctor stopped in front of a door and looked down as she held the doorknob. "Just see for yourself."

She opened the door. The night guard gulped as his eyes widened.

The man lying on the hospital bed had almost every inch of skin covered in bandages. There was a tube on his elbow and a mask providing him with oxygen. The machine next to his bed made a beeping sound every so often.

Mike tried not to imagine himself in Phil's place on that hospital bed. What on earth had happened on that fourth night of Phil's last week that got him on that condition?

Next to the bed were two boys. The siblings from the picture on Phil's phone. They both shared the same hazelnut-colored hair as their father. They also had similar green eyes, though Phil's were closed and thus it was impossible to tell if they had gotten that from him as well. The youngest, who sat on the edge of the bed, looked at Mike. The eldest was on a chair right next to the bedside table. He was messing around with his phone, looking down at it steadily and not even bothering to see who had walked in the room.

"Aunt Tricia, who's that?" asked the young boy curiously.

"This is a friend of your dad, from work," Dr. McKinley replied, smiling. "He found his phone and came here to give it back, and check how he's doing." She gestured in his direction. "His name is Michael Schmidt."

"Mike," he corrected.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Schmidt," said the young boy.

"Mike, _please,_" the night guard corrected again, more vehemently. Only his _dad_ was called Mr. Schmidt… "What's your name, champ?"

The child grinned. "Daniel. Daniel Grayson. That's my brother Marshall," he replied, nodding towards his older sibling.

The teen looked up from his phone to look at Mike. "Hey." And he went back to texting.

"Marshall's usually the talkative one…" Dr. McKinley commented, walking towards Daniel. "But ever since Phil was… _attacked_, he's been very moody…"

Marshall glared at his phone. "Humph."

Mike looked at Phil's sister. "Hmm… do you know how he got attacked?" Whatever explanation for his condition they got, it probably wouldn't be the truth.

"They say it was a break in…" she started, confirming Mike's suspicions. She looked as if she didn't really believe the story. "The thieves got away and…"

Marshall rolled his eyes and interrupted his aunt. "That's some bullshit right there."

"Marshall!"

"Are you actually expecting me to buy that story? If there was an actual break in, and dad ended up like this…!" He pointed at his dad, standing up. "… then the thieves would be even worse! There's no way dad would get beat up by some stupid burglars!"

Daniel looked at his older brother sadly. "Don't yell, Marshall… Dad's resting!"

Marshall rolled his eyes again. "Dad is in an _induced coma_, he isn't resting. He can't hear us, or move, or do anything. And you want to know why? Because of those stupid robots!"

"They aren't stupid!" Daniel argued.

"Whatever – I'm gonna get some fresh air…"

The teen stormed out of the room, bumping into Mike as he made his way out. Mike looked at Daniel and then at his aunt. They both looked distraught.

"I'm sorry…" Dr. McKinley said. "Like I said, he took the attack on his father really hard. They're really close."

"Where's their mother?" Mike asked, remembering how the doctor hadn't mentioned Phil's wife.

"Wherever she is, she better stay there," the doctor muttered, apparently annoyed at the mere mention of her. "They got divorced when Daniel was three. Best thing he ever did, if you ask me."

Well. There was definitely no love there.

"Mister… um, Mike?" Daniel called timidly.

"Yeah, bud?" the night guard walked over to him with a small smile. What a cute kid.

"Are the… are the robots bad?" Daniel looked up at him with an almost begging look.

Mike wasn't sure how to answer that question. And he felt even less sure when it was made with _that_ look. Now he knew what Claire meant with "puppy-eyes" being irresistible…

Were the animatronics bad? Mike honestly didn't think so. He was pretty convinced they were being controlled by something else. Some sort of… entity that made them aggressive. If the yellow bear that helped him was supernatural (and that was the only explanation he had, as much as it pained and confused him…) then there could be something else in the "paranormal" realm going on in that pizzeria… Lawrence actually answering his questions and being _somewhat_ nice could definitely qualify…

"I don't think they are…" Mike finally said, receiving in response an expression of pure relief from Daniel. "But why do you ask?"

Daniel looked at his unconscious father. "Marshall says dad was attacked by the robots, and that Mr. Richards was lying…"

"_Well…"_ Mike thought. _"He's right about that…"_

"But dad told me all these stories… of when he first started working at the pizzeria. He says that the robots were always friendly towards the staff, and were really popular." Daniel paused. He then smiled with obvious pride. "Dad says he taught them a lot of things, and they even called him 'dad' sometimes."

The night guard frowned. That only made the whole thing sadder. Phil had been attacked by the animatronics that he was so fond of – the animatronics he taught… And the ones who saw him as a _father_ figure, judging from what Daniel was saying. The whole thing was just tragic.

"I have a photo here!" The little boy took a photo out of his pocket. It as an old and worn-out photo, that was obviously several years old.

Mike took the photo and looked at it, feeling his heart ache again.

The four animatronics were gathered around Phil, who smiled sheepishly at the camera. He did have the same green eyes as his sons. Freddy and Foxy were on the back, while Bonnie and Chica stood next to Phil on opposing sides. Freddy took off his hat with one hand while the other held a plate with a cake. At the top of the cake was a figurine, which was, judging from the outfit, trying to represent Phil. The end result wasn't very flattering, as it wasn't well-crafted – it looked like it had been made by a kid. Foxy looked much more presentable than now and his suit wasn't all torn up. He was placing a pirate hat on Phil's head, grinning. Chica had a bag of flour on her hands and had a mischievous smirk. If Phil's uniform was any indication, it was obvious Chica had tried to pour flour on him. Bonnie held his guitar on one hand while his other arm was wrapped around Phil's. His smile was very child-like, and the brightest of the bunch.

Above them was a banner that read: "_HAPPY BIRTHDAY PHIL"_

They all looked so happy together. Like a family...


	10. Chapter 9 - Fifth Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

This was it. The last night. After this night he wouldn't have to worry about animatronics trying to kill him anymore. His week would be complete and he would be free to go back into unemployment and listening to his father's displeased commentaries about his lack of responsibility. Between that and ending up dead via being stuffed in a suit, he would listen to his father gladly.

As Mike walked down the dark halls of the pizzeria, he looked at the drawings hanging on the walls. So many children that went there, not knowing that people had died within the premises. Not knowing that those robotic characters they loved so much were responsible for killing several guards. Well, not entirely responsible – if they were indeed being controlled by something, then that "something" was the real culprit.

He then thought about the people who still worked at the pizzeria. Stewart liked his job – naturally, he had no metallic murderers coming after him… - but had confessed to him that he was thinking about going somewhere else; as in, somewhere where he would get more money. Jim had shown no problems with his job either so far, but Mike had the uneasy feeling that man knew much more about the pizzeria and the animatronics than what he was letting on. Some of the commentaries he had made in the past made it seem like he was very much aware of everything that was going on there. Lawrence seemed to have his own personal reasons to want to keep running the place, but he doubted the man would share them with him anytime soon. The fact he had even bothered to answer his questions about Phil and even told him about the pressure he was under by the owner of the company was a surprise in itself, really. What was it that made Lawrence tell him that anyway?

Mike stopped walking. He had ended up in the dining area, near to the stage, without even noticing. The animatronics stood there, looking into nothingness. He remembered what Jim had told him on his third night. The animatronics talked back, if he was willing to listen – or something like that.

He sighed. Well, no harm in trying, right?

"Hey, guys. You know me, right? The guard you've been trying to kill the past five days?"

The robots made no indication that they were even aware he was next to him.

He scratched the back of his neck and went on. "So… I know it isn't your fault. I know something is making you do it. Don't worry, I don't hate you, Bonnie," he added, turning towards the purple bunny, as he remembered what the robot had tried telling him via sign language on his third night. "… This is gonna be my last night here. I'm not going to come back. There's nothing here for me. I wish I could do something to help you guys fight against whatever's controlling you, but I don't think there's anything I can do…"

He paused to look at the robots. They remained frozen in place, without making a sound. He shook his head. What was he doing…? They hadn't listened to anything he had told them, for sure. And even if they had, it wouldn't do them any good.

"So this is the last time we'll be seeing one another, Mike Schmidt?"

Mike frowned, and looked behind him. Jim was standing right there, holding his trusty mop, smiling calmly. When did he get there? He hadn't even heard him walk towards him.

"I'm afraid so," he replied, turning to face him. "I don't think this job is the right one for me…"

Jim nodded. "Quite a lot to handle, isn't it? Still, I'm sorry to hear that you'll be leaving us."

"Better than dying," Mike retorted, wondering what the senior would say to that.

The janitor chuckled. "Indeed. I believe you went to see Phil Grayson at the hospital this afternoon?"

The night guard raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"A little golden bird told me," Jim replied, still with his eerie smile. "I too visited him, just this past Tuesday." He shook his head. "Such a shame he ended up in that condition. Though, as you put it, 'better than dying'."

"So you're one of the two people his sister allowed to visit him, uh?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, I was. I believe Mr. Richards was the other one…"

"Lawrence… went to see him?" Mike asked, surprised. He was sure if it was him in that hospital, Lawrence wouldn't have bothered.

The janitor's smile became wider. "Now, now, Mike Schmidt. Don't sound so surprised. Surely you don't think Mr. Richards is a heartless man?"

He laughed at Mike's expression, which showed he had certainly considered such a possibility.

"Mr. Richards is under a lot of pressure, Mike Schmidt. The owner of Fazbear Entertainment is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep his company running, even if it means concealing the deaths of his employees," Jim explained. "If anything was to happen in this pizzeria that would ruin the company's reputation…"

"… it would fall on him, I know," Mike completed. "Lawrence already told me that. He said he can't afford to lose this pizzeria. Does he have problems with money or something?"

Jim looked at him. "What Mr. Richards risks losing if this pizzeria closes down is much more valuable than money, Mike Schmidt. That man already lost quite a lot. Perhaps that is why he's the man he is today…" he sighed.

Mike frowned, staring at Jim. What could he mean with that? What could Lawrence possibly have in that pizzeria that was so important to him?

The janitor looked at his watch. "Well, it seems like it's time for me to leave. I trust you have everything under control?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." Hopefully, he added in his thoughts.

Jim turned around to leave, but stopped in his tracks as he seemed to lose his balance. Mike moved quickly to catch him in case he fell, but the senior managed to stop himself by holding the edge of a nearby table.

"Are you alright?" the night guard asked worriedly.

The janitor smiled and nodded. Now that Mike was close to him, he could see he looked extremely tired. He had dark rings around his eyes, and looked very pale.

"Don't you worry about me, Mike Schmidt… Age is catching up with me, unfortunately. But I'll be alright. Nothing that a good night sleep won't heal."

Mike watched the janitor as he walked away, with a slow and unsteady step, coughing lightly as he disappeared in the darkness. The elder didn't look so good. And for some reason, watching him walk away until the shadows of the dining hall engulfed him made him have a bad feeling. Like something bad was to happen soon.

* * *

The night guard stretched his arms and leaned on his chair. His strategy had helped him get through the night before much more easily than the other nights – where he had just spazzed out like a moron without a proper plan -, so if he remained calm and focused there was no reason for that night to go bad.

Once the clock hit midnight, he grabbed his tablet and checked the show stage.

Then, to his surprise, the phone started ringing.

Mike looked at the phone frowning. Phil was the only one who left him messages, and he had been attacked during his fourth one. There was no way he would have been able to record a fifth one.

Once the message started playing, Mike gulped. The voice speaking was so heavily distorted it was impossible for him to understand what it was saying. There was static interrupting each sentence, and it sounded kind of demonic.

"What the hell is this shit…?" he thought aloud, clicking on the button to stop the message. He was not going to listen to the rest of it. Could it have been the animatronics…? No… It was probably whatever entity was controlling them that recorded it. To mess with him and Phil, probably.

He shook his head and checked the cameras. He was not going to get disturbed over it. He had seen Phil in the hospital after all; he was hurt, but alive. He was fine. And now that he had his sister's number, he would be able to call her and check on his condition.

"I will call you to inform you about any progress on his condition," Dr. McKinley had said to him as he was ready to leave the hospital, handing him a piece of paper with her phone number written on it. "And you can call me in case you want to visit him. I will warn the receptionist to let you in."

Mike closed the right door as Chica was there, staring at him. He took the chance to check the cameras on the right side of the map, noticing a poster that read "List of Rules" hanging on the wall of the east hall, seen on Cam 4B. One of the rules were "Don't poop on the floor". He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. How many times did _that_ happen for the management to put it up as rule…? Poor Jim.

After checking Pirate Cove and Cam 2B, he checked the door lights. Chica was still there, obviously, and Bonnie hadn't gotten to his office yet. He was surprised with himself. He didn't feel nervous. It felt natural to him now, as if he was already used to it.

He glanced at the balls of paper that were scattered on the desk, next to the bottle of water he had brought from home. "Humph. They bleach the premises and change the carpets if someone dies but can't be bothered to clean my office," he complained, annoyed. He then took one ball of paper and started unfolding it, to see what was written in it.

A squeaking noise made him look to his right. Chica had her hands pressed against the glass again, staring at the ball of paper in his hands. He raised an eyebrow and looked back at the paper. Once completely stretched, he could see some messy handwriting.

"_PLEASE GET OUT"_

He frowned. Underneath was another sentence, and another. The one following "Please get out" was written in a more presentable style, immediately followed by the messy one. It seemed like two people were passing notes, replying to the note by writing underneath it.

"_Why are you acting like this?_

_WE DON'T MEAN IT PLEASE GET OUT_

_Tell me what's going on"_

Underneath was a mess of scribbles and lines, as if whoever was writing wanted to reply but their hand was not moving like they wanted it to. They must have given up on whatever they wanted to write and decided to say something else because underneath was their answer.

_WE DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU LEAVE_

_Tell me what I can do to help you_

_SHUT US DOWN PLEASE SHUT US DOWN"_

The night guard looked at the chicken staring at him from the window. She blinked and looked at him. He checked the cameras and the door lights quickly before grabbing another ball of paper and unfolding it.

"_WHY DO YOU WANT TO STAY_

_PLEASE DADDY LEAVE"_

Mike sighed before putting the papers back on the desk. If he assumed that whoever had the messy handwriting was one of the animatronics, then the person they were talking to had to be Phil. Considering they called the person "daddy", it made sense.

"… **Foxy…"**

The night guard picked up the tablet quickly and checked Pirate Cove upon hearing that familiar robotic voice. Foxy was peeking out the curtains, looking up at the camera.

"Darn… thanks for the heads up," he said, knowing that the yellow bear had been the one to warn him, even though he couldn't see him anywhere.

"**Focus,"** the invisible bear said, sounding like he was scolding him.

"I know, I know, I'm on it." He opened the right door as he replied, as Chica was no longer there. He couldn't get distracted, especially not that night.

* * *

"What the hell…"

Mike didn't know if it was because it was his last night there and the entity controlling the animatronics was desperate to get to him or not, but there was a lot going on that night.

Asides from the animatronics being far more active than usual, Mike couldn't help but notice a couple of changes in décor. Some of the drawings made by the kids seemed to change as the night went by, and they all showed the same picture – a child, crying. Even though he was already slightly more open to the possibility of that place actually being haunted, he did not expect that to happen. And he didn't know what it was supposed to mean. After all, the kids loved the pizzeria and the robots, there was no reason for them to cry – it was the adults that were terrified of going there. He also noticed that one time, after Foxy left Pirate Cove, the sign that usually said that the place was out of order said "IT'S ME" instead. That one in particular got him confused. It was the yellow bear who usually said that, as way of greeting.

"… Did you do that?" he asked aloud, expecting the bear to answer, wherever he was.

"… **No…" **came the reply.

"Hm…" Mike stared at the sign for a while before resuming his strategy. "So where are you right now?"

"**Kitchen"**

Mike closed the left door after spotting Bonnie there, and took a sip of water. "I can't see what goes on in there. Anything interesting?"

"**Freddy"**

The night guard almost choked on the water he was drinking. He checked the show stage and saw the Freddy was, indeed, gone. He then looked at the right door, which was open. If Freddy was indeed in the kitchen then he was heading towards him. So far he hadn't been able to spot him anywhere else other than the bathroom.

He checked his watch. He had one hour left to the end of his shift, and still a reasonable amount of power.

The guard sighed. "Oh well, so far so good. Can you warn me when he moves closer? I can't see him on the cameras…"

The yellow bear took a while to answer. **"You got it"**

Mike nodded, smiling. At least he had his help. He hadn't tried to figure out what was the mysterious bear's true identity, but he couldn't lose focus right now. Even if the night was going well, he couldn't take his survival for granted.

Half an hour passed. The yellow bear didn't talk during that time, so Mike trusted he was keeping Freddy under surveillance. The other three animatronics kept trying to get in but Mike managed to keep his office out of limits for them.

It was 5h55 when the yellow bear talked again.

"**Cam 4B"**

Mike checked said camera quickly. Freddy was there. Just like Bonnie on his first night, he had his face so close to the camera it was impossible to see anything else.

"Bonnie already pulled that one, Freddy. Find your own stuff." He put down the tablet and stretched. The times when he got startled over every little thing that the animatronics pulled on him were gone, it seemed. It had only been four days ago, but he felt much more confident and braver now.

"**Close the door"**

Mike frowned. "But he isn't at the door yet…"

"**He's different,"** he warned. **"Close the door"**

The guard did as told, closing the right door. He then looked at the desk. "… You know, you still haven't told me who you are. I know you're not Phil, so… who are you?"

The yellow bear suddenly appeared on his desk, looking at him. **"It's me,"** he said.

He rolled his eyes. "Right, that's so helpful…" he muttered.

A giggle was heard. The same as the one he heard the first time the yellow bear appeared. A little girl's giggle.

"**I'm Golden Freddy"**

Mike narrowed his eyes. "Right, and your _real _name?" he insisted. That ghost couldn't belong to an animatronic – robots don't have souls.

Golden Freddy looked at him for a while. **"Bye, Mikey"**

Before the guard could say anything, his watch announced the end of his shift. He stared at the watch in his wrist for a couple of seconds. He had made it. His shift was over. The_week_ was over. He had survived five nights at Freddy's. He looked up, and the yellow bear was no longer there.

* * *

***16 Hours Ago***

"… _**Hello, hello…?"**_

…

"… _**Mike…?"**_

…

"**GET UP"**

Mike's eyes snapped open. He had gone home after his fifth (and last) night on the job to get some well deserved sleep, but his rest was cut short as he felt the sudden urge to get up. Problem was, he wasn't on his room anymore.

He was lying on the cold floor, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above him. Wires were hanging from it, and a light breeze made them move slightly, as if they were seaweed under water. He sat up slowly, looking around him. He recognized those tiles. He recognized those creepy drawings on the walls. He was at the pizzeria.

"Alright… this is a dream… I'm dreaming…" he muttered to himself, taking deep breaths to calm himself down from the initial scare of waking up in a different place from the one he had fallen asleep in. "You're safe… in your bed… asleep…"

"…**Mikey…"**

He closed his eyes. He recognized the voice, but was not going to pay attention to it this time. It wasn't real. "It's a dream… wake up… wake up…"

"…**Help them…"**

The guard jumped slightly as something touched his arm. He looked over to see a little girl with black hair who was kneeling on the floor next to him. She was rubbing her knee and sobbing, as if she had just fallen.

"Aw…" she whimpered.

He stared at her and moved slightly away from her. It was a dream. Just a random dream…

"Rika, come on!" called a voice, another girl, but this one had brown hair tied in a ponytail. She was at the end of the hallway, waving at the black-haired girl. "Hurry!"

The girl named Rika stood up, brushing dust off her skirt and skipped over to the brown-haired girl, holding her hand once she reached her.

"Where is he?" she asked.

The brown-haired girl pointed to her left. "Right over there."

"**Follow me…"**

Mike stood up, suddenly. That voice that just talked, sounded robotic like the yellow bear's, but it wasn't him. It didn't sound right. He felt like whoever it was that was talking, he shouldn't trust him.

The two little girls followed the voice. The girl named Rika didn't look too sure, but the other girl pulled her along.

"**Help them"**

"Hey!" he called, starting to follow the girls. "Wait! Don't follow him!"

He completely forgot that he was – for sure… - in a dream, and dashed after the two children. Once he reached the corner that they had just passed by, however, he found a dead end.

"What the…"

All there was in that dead end was a table. And on that table, there was a worn-out music box. The music coming out of it was very familiar – "Pop goes the weasel". It was starting to play faster and faster, and the lid was opening slightly at each second. For some reason, Mike felt like the best thing to do was to just close the music box and toss it as far away as possible.

Once the music stopped, wires shot out of the music box, taking hold of the guard's arms and legs and squeezing them.

Just like with Bonnie, there was very little he could do against the strength of those wires. If that was indeed a dream, then it felt very, _very_ real. The pain of being squeezed by those wires felt real, and the fear of realizing there was something ominous coming out of the music box felt real as well.

He took a quick glance at what was emerging from the box while he struggled against the wires. A puppet of some sort, with a wide grin and red cheeks, stared at him. It was tall and slender, colored black and white save for the cheeks and some tear-like blue streaks that went from its eyes to its chin.

The puppet was pulling the strings, and as Mike got closer to the box, its grin got wider.

"We have a place for you ~" it said, with an eerie sing-song voice.

Horrifying screams echoed through the hall, as if someone was being tortured. It sounded like the two little girls he was just following, and they were screaming for help.

"**HELP THEM,"** Golden Freddy's voice thundered.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" Mike doubled – no, tripled – his efforts to set himself free. He couldn't bear listening to those girls screaming; he had to so something.

"Get off me – I have to save them!"

The wires instantly disappeared, and for a second, he thought the puppet had let him go so he could go save the kids. But just then, he felt something grab his shoulders. He looked up to see a near-solid purple shadow looming over him. It was shaped like Bonnie, and its pupils were white and intense. It grinned at him wickedly, apparently extremely amused at the sound of the children being tortured.

"**YOU CAN'T"**

"Mike!"

Mike screamed and fell on the floor. He looked around him frantically, realizing he was sitting next to his couch. He was in his living room, sweating and panting. The whole thing_was_ a nightmare…

"Mike! Are you okay?"

He looked up to see Claire looking at him worriedly.

"You were turning and mumbling in your sleep just now. Were you having a bad dream?" she asked, placing a hand on his forehead.

He nodded. "Yeah… D-don't worry, I'm alright… I'm alright…" he assured, though it felt like a lie. He was still looking around as if he was expecting that shadowy-Bonnie thing to be there still smirking at him.

"You sure?" Claire asked, raising an eyebrow. "You were saying 'I have to save them' over and over…"

"Oh…" He gulped, trying to think quickly of an excuse. "… It must have been because of a movie or something… I don't really remember…"

Claire kept looking at him with the same worried expression, but nodded. "I'll make you some coffee."

He thanked her as she walked away, standing up. He wiped the sweat off his face and looked out the window. He didn't save those kids. Even if it was just in a dream, he couldn't forget the feeling of despair that was in Golden Freddy's voice as he asked him to "help them". But he didn't help them. He failed.

"Here's your coffee," Claire announced, handing him a cup of coffee. "Listen, I have a meeting today, with other pet shop assistants, to discuss animal well-fare."

Mike nodded absent-mindedly. "Great…"

"So I might come home a little more late than usual," she warned. "And – I need your help. Which dress is better?"

She showed him two dresses, one purple with a black ribbon around the waist, and the other light green with black flower-like patterns. He immediately pointed at the green one.

She glanced at him surprised. "That was fast. You usually take a while to decide, or go like 'I don't know, you look fine in anything…'" she giggled, paraphrasing him and trying to imitate his voice.

The guard took a sip of his coffee. The image of that purple shadow grinning as those little girls were being hurt emerged on his mind, which made him feel the urge to destroy anything in that color.

"I hate the color purple…"


	11. Chapter 10 - Sacrifices

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

***16 Hours Ago***

"You are awfully quiet today…"

Mike didn't look up from his meal, instead focusing his stare on the fork, which held a piece of meat that he had forgotten to eat. He didn't say anything to Claire's comment either, simply shrugging to show he had at least heard her.

"Did something bad happen at work?" she insisted.

He shook his head. What bothered him hadn't happened at work, in fact; it happened at home. He couldn't erase the images of what he had seen in that bad dream as much as he tried. So many times that he ended up forgetting something important because of his bad memory – it would be pretty damn useful if he forgot that messed up nightmare now.

Claire sighed, seeming defeated. "Fine. I won't push it, but remember – I'm here if you want to talk about it." She stood up, taking her empty plate with her to the kitchen.

He was not going to talk about it. He couldn't, anyway. Just like he couldn't tell her about what he had endured during the five days he took the night shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, he couldn't tell her about the nightmare either, or anyone for that matter. It felt like something he had to deal with alone. Just thinking about it made him feel hate like never before, though he wasn't sure who that hate was directed towards. Maybe that shadowy-Bonnie? Shadow Bonnie – yeah, sounded like a good nickname. Though that thing was obviously NOT Bonnie, and obviously much worse than him. While the purple bunny was being controlled by something to attack, Shadow Bonnie was clearly very much into listening to those two girls being tortured. What sort of psycho would smile like that while they were being hurt?

_The sort of psycho I would like to beat to a pulp,_ he thought, angrily.

He then shook his head and resumed eating his now cold beef. He was getting frustrated over a _dream_. A meaningless dream, fruit of his stressful job. He had no idea why he was taking it so seriously. Nothing that happened in his dream had _actually_ happened, no matter how horrible it had been. That Shadow Bonnie wasn't real, and that creepy puppet wasn't real either.

"_**HELP THEM"**_

Mike dropped his fork. He just couldn't let it go. Why did he hear Golden Freddy in that dream, begging him to save those girls? If that dream had been, in fact, fruit of his imagination, what was the meaning behind it? It seemed too random for him to make up on his own… And he even heard Phil calling him in the beginning of the dream.

Then he remembered. There _was_ someone he could talk to about his job. And though he couldn't talk back, it would probably be a good thing for him to let those things off his chest.

He stood up and took his practically full plate to the kitchen, where Claire was.

"I'm going out," he said quickly, turning around to leave and picking up his keys on his way past the table.

"Wait, where are you going?" Claire asked from the kitchen.

Mike stopped at the front door and hesitated for a second. "Uh… The hospital, because of my shoulder. The doctor wants to check if it's healing right. I have to go to the pizzeria to pick up my check after that, so I'll be home around dinner time. Probably," he added, gulping. He had only lied about what he was going to the hospital for…

A couple of seconds passed by.

"… Alright," he heard her say.

He sighed in relief and went out the door.

Claire stepped into the living room with his plate on her hands, looking apprehensively at the front door. He was hiding something from her. She could tell. The past five days she had continuously tried to convince herself that everything was going great and that his job was no big deal, but she knew, _for a damn fact_, that Michael Schmidt was lying to her. And it was all because of that stupid pizzeria, she was sure of it. No matter. She would find out what he was hiding. Eventually.

She sighed in frustration and turned to drop the cold food Mike had left behind in the trash can, but stopped as she noticed a single piece of paper there. She shook her head, disappointed. How many times had she asked him to separate the litter for recycling?

She put down the plate and bent over to retrieve the paper from the trash can. Before she could put it on the proper recycling bin, she noticed what was written in it. A phone number. And above it, a name.

"_Patricia McKinley"_

Her eyes narrowed and her gaze turned cold. Who the hell was Patricia McKinley?!

* * *

***13 Hours Ago* **

Beep.

…

Beep.

…

Beep.

That was the only sound that could be heard in Phil Grayson's room. Mike sat next to his bed, looking at the man, without saying a word. Sure, he had decided to go there and talk "with" him about what he was going through, but now that was next to him, he couldn't help but agree with Marshall Grayson. Phil couldn't hear him. He wasn't even aware Mike was there. And even if he was, he wouldn't recognize him, naturally. Then again, Patricia had told him that there was a chance that people in comas could hear what was going on around them, but just couldn't react to it. She should know – she was a doctor, after all.

He owed that man his life, he knew it. If he hadn't recorded those messages, the guard probably wouldn't have made it past the first, second night. Like all the others. Was it because he was busy recording him a message that he got ultimately caught by the animatronics? Probably, recording messages most likely cost him power. Power he was willing to spend to warn the next guard about what he was up against. Though he had obviously got the reason why the robots attacked wrong. They didn't mistake him for an endoskeleton – they were being forced to attack against their will. Maybe knowing that would bring him some relief; after all, he and the robots were as close as a family once.

Mike straightened himself on the chair. He might as well do what he had gone there to do.

"Hum, hi. You don't know me, but trust me, once you wake up, you'll be hearing a lot from me." He chuckled, and then cleared his throat. "My name is Mike Schmidt, and I just spent five nights working as the night guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I heard your messages, and I wanted to thank you for them. If you hadn't gone through the trouble to record them, I wouldn't be here talking to you."

He paused. Another beep was heard from the machine.

"The animatronics aren't attacking because they want to. Your son, Daniel, told me you and the animatronics used to be close, so I just thought you'd like to know… there's something forcing them to attack, I just don't know what… They tried talking to me, both Chica and Bonnie. They tried to warn me that they don't mean it."

The guard looked at Phil for a few seconds in silence before carrying on. "I had a… well, I had pretty nasty nightmare just this morning… There were two little girls that were following someone… And I heard Golden Freddy – I don't know if you've met him – asking me to help them. But I couldn't… Some puppet thing showed up and then this purple shadow that looked liked Bonnie… I don't know what any of this means… It's like something is compelling to me stay at that pizzeria…"

Another pause.

"… How on earth did you manage to survive for four months, anyway? I mean, I was ready to quit after just three days, and you worked there for, what…"

He made some quick math before his eyes widened at the result he came up with. "Assuming you did weekends, and I have the feeling you did, you worked there for _one hundred and twenty_ days! That's insane! Why would you stay that long…?"

Phil, naturally, didn't answer. But he didn't need to. Mike answered his own question.

"'Always worried about how everyone else was doing instead of focusing on his own problems'…" he muttered, repeating what Phil's sister had said to him when Mike first appeared in the hospital looking for him. "That's why… You didn't want anyone else to be stuck there fighting for their lives…"

He took some time to be amazed at his ability to recall what Dr. McKinley had said word by word before laughing lightly. "Wow… way to make me feel like a jackass for wanting to quit… And you're not even saying anything."

Mike looked down at his feet, nodding to himself. "I understand now. I can't leave my job before I find out what's going on, can I? If anything, I have to make it long enough to figure out what's controlling the robots… or record some messages of my own for the guard that replaces me… just like you did. Hope you don't mind if I start them the same way as you," he added, chuckling again.

After some minutes spent staring at the unconscious man, he stood up and left the hospital. There was something else he had to do before going home. He had made up his mind. He was not quitting. Even though it felt like a bad decision, he was going back for a sixth night. He could hear a small voice in his mind yelling out "Are you fucking crazy? You're lucky you survived five, why go for a sixth? You're gonna get yourself killed!", but another voice, which for some reason sounded like Golden Freddy's, spoke louder.

"**I have to help them." **

* * *

***11 Hours Ago***

Mike stared at the door of Lawrence's office. He took a deep breath and knocked. Every time he was in front of the man's door, it felt like he was walking into his impending doom.

"Who is it?" the manager asked from inside the office. He didn't sound as annoyed as usual. Maybe that was a good sign.

"Mike Schmidt. Sir," he added quickly, wanting to keep his boss in a good mood.

"Come on in."

He opened the door and walked in. Lawrence was at his desk, organizing some papers.

"Here for your paycheck, I assume?" he asked, before raising an eyebrow at him. "Or are you here to complain about something else?"

The guard shook his head. "No, no complains this time."

Lawrence opened a drawer and looked for the checkbook. Once he found it, he got the one with Mike's name on it and handed it to him. "There you go. Anything else?"

Mike nodded to confirm he did have something else to say, which made Lawrence sigh. He was certainly expecting Mike to bother him with something again, but this time, the guard was sure the manager would be pleased with what he had to tell him. Maybe.

"What is it now?"

"I'm not quitting. I told you on my third fourth day that I was going to quit after the end of the week but I changed my mind. I'm staying." He said it all quite quickly, more to prevent himself from regretting his decision mid-sentence and back down than anything else.

Lawrence looked at him, seemingly bored. "I already know that."

"How… how do you know?" Mike asked, now confused and slightly disappointed. He had expected Lawrence to show some kind of approval towards him. And how many times had he asked the question "how do you know that" since he started working on that place?

"A psychic told me," the manager grunted.

Mike felt stupid for hesitating about whether he should believe him or not – the man had to be joking, though he looked dead serious.

"So, you'll be back next week, right?" Lawrence asked, going back to his unorganized paperwork.

"And today," Mike added, to which Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "I'm doing extra hours, if you don't mind."

Lawrence observed him for a while before blinking. "I don't mind at all. But it's just not often that a guard offers to stay for more days than what he's obliged to." He then shook his head. "You're a really weird one, kid."

The guard decided to ignore that last comment. "Sure. I'll be back for my shift tonight then."

"Wait, wait," Lawrence called, gesturing for him to stop before he got out.

Mike raised an eyebrow as he looked at the black-haired man. What did _he_ want now?

"Since you're doing extra hours, can you show up early today? I need you to keep an eye on Jim."

The guard blinked, frowning. "Jim? What's wrong with him?"

Lawrence sighed, continuing to organize his paperwork. "He hasn't been feeling well. I told him that he could take some days off and I'd get Stewart or one of the cooks to clean but he insisted on coming back."

Asides from being surprised at this display of compassion coming from Lawrence, the guard was also surprised at the reveal of Jim not feeling well. He did indeed look tired the previous night, but he didn't imagine it would be so serious for even _Lawrence_ to be worried.

He nodded. "Alright, I'll come in early. Anything else?" he asked, feeling rather pleased with how perfectly he had just mimicked Lawrence's condescending tone.

Lawrence looked up at him with narrowed eyes, obviously not as pleased as him, which made Mike quickly turn around and leave. Mission "Make Lawrence show any sign of a sense of humor" – in progress…

* * *

***10 Hours Ago***

Once the night guard got home, he knew there was gonna be trouble. For one, the table wasn't set for dinner yet. Also, Claire was sitting on the couch, with her legs and arms crossed, somehow displaying the same intimidating aura that Lawrence always had around him. That was new. And couldn't mean anything good.

"Uh… hi?" Mike greeted hesitantly.

She glared at him. "Where were you?"

"I told you… I went to the hospital, and then I went to the pizzeria…"

Claire stood up and stomped towards him, holding a piece of paper in her hands. By the way she was wielding it, it might as well have been a weapon.

"What is this?"

Mike looked at it. It was the piece of paper that had Dr. McKinley's number. "That's my doctor's phone number…" he replied, not sure where the conversation was going.

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh. I didn't know doctors gave away their private numbers to all of their patients," she spat, with an obvious accusatory tone.

The guard looked back and forth between the paper and his girlfriend. He really didn't need this right now, whatever "this" was. Before he could even try and say anything – though truly he had no idea what he could say – she shot another accusation at him.

"You went to the hospital to see her, didn't you?"

He opened his mouth to protest against that claim, but she gave him no time for that.

"Is that why you've been so distant? Because you used to talk to me about everything, but ever since you got hurt you barely even acknowledge I'm here!"

She sounded like she was about to cry. Immediately, he walked towards her to comfort her but she smacked his hands away.

"Oh don't you show concern now! Didn't Miss McKinley comfort you enough?" she wailed, saying "Miss McKinley" the same way she would say the name of someone absolutely detestable.

"Claire…" Mike called, trying to sound calm though he was in reality starting to freak out at her distressed state. Where was all of that coming from? "She is just my doctor, there is nothing going on… For goodness sake, she's married…!"

"Oh my god, a married woman?!" Claire shrieked, covering her face with her hands and turning away from him.

He put down his hands, making a barely audible sound of frustration. She hadn't heard anything besides "she's married", which only made her more upset.

"Please, calm down…"

"I am NOT going to calm down!" she snapped, giving him a look so infuriated that it was almost as if the whole room was trying to run away from her. "If I'm wrong, then tell me what you're hiding. C'mon, tell me!"

He had no idea what he could say to her at that point. He couldn't tell her the truth, he couldn't – and he couldn't think of an excuse that would for sure calm her down and make her trust him. But the simple thought of lying to her _yet again_ felt wrong. But what else could he do…?

She took his silence for a confirmation of her worse fears. "I knew it – I _knew_ – that there was something going on, with all the avoidance, the excuses, but I never thought… I'm so stupid, I actually believed that you loved me…"

At those words, he felt like someone had punched his heart until it turned into mush. He stood there, staring at her, unable to say anything. _Why didn't he say anything?_

"I don't know why I'm surprised… I always gave you my all, and I never asked for anything! But you never said it…" She sobbed, her hands trembling. "Not once!"

_Say something_. _Don't just stand there like an idiot, say something! Look at her, you have to tell her that you DO love her, come on!_

But no words come out. Instead, he kept staring at her, swallowing down what he wanted to say.

She gave him a sad look. "See? Not even now. You can't even say it now."

_Say it, you stupid fuck, say it! It's just three words, it shouldn't be that hard!_

Claire shook her head, tears streaming down her face. She picked up her coat and walked past him. "You make your own dinner."

The door opened, and then closed. She was gone.

The minutes that followed, while he looked at the spot where Claire stood at just some time ago as if his brain had been removed, felt like hours. He was an idiot. A complete, insufferable, idiot. He just watched her cry, and didn't do anything. Didn't say anything.

Was that what he had to sacrifice in order to keep working at the pizzeria, just so he could help the very things that almost got him killed? To get to the truth, he had to lose the one thing in his life that made him happy?

It was at that moment that he realized – it didn't matter. Now, it didn't matter anymore. Even if he did die that night, the world wouldn't be missing out on anything. It would be just one less idiot in the world.

* * *

**[A/N - :C...] **


	12. Chapter 11 - Sixth Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

***6 Hours Ago***

The drive towards the pizzeria felt especially lonely that night. He tried calling Claire several times, but she never picked up the phone. They had never had an argument like that before. They disagreed on some things, obviously, but their quarrels were never so bad that one of them would walk away as infuriated as she had some hours ago.

For the seventh time, he held his phone expectantly next to his ear as he walked inside the building, hoping she would pick up. No response. There was no use. Maybe he'd have better luck in the morning, after she had enough time to calm down. There was no use in insulting himself mentally like he had done for the past four hours. He had messed up bad this time. He should have thought things through before coming up with stupid excuses and acting as shady as he had. Of course she would end up getting suspicious.

Mike shook his head and tried his best to concentrate on the night ahead of him. As much as his heart felt heavy, and as much as he felt like continuing his job as a night guard was meaningless in comparison to appeasing Claire and making things between them return to how they were, he had to focus. If he wanted to try and amend things the next day, he'd have to survive the night first. And even before he got to his office, he had to look for Jim; after all, he had assured Lawrence that he would make sure the elder was feeling alright.

He headed towards the dining area, where Jim could usually be found mopping the floors or rearranging the tables. Maybe Jim would have some "sage advice" for him or something…

However, he found the dining area completely deserted. The robots were still there, but no sign of any human in there. He frowned and looked in all angles, to make sure the janitor wasn't hiding somewhere. He headed towards the bathrooms – who knows, maybe he was doing some cleaning there… - and then, the kitchen. Oddly enough, the kitchen was closed. He picked up his keys and looked for the key that would open it, but just as he was about to try and open the door, something made him turn around.

He felt like he was being watched. The guard looked at every possible corner before sniffing. "Golden Freddy? If that's you, just show up, because I'm not in the mood for games right now…"

He got no answer. Mike shook his head, turning his gaze back to the kitchen door. "Whatever…"

* * *

***5 Hours Ago***

Mike sighed in frustration as he headed towards his office. He had looked for an hour and found absolutely no sign of the senior being around. His attempts at trying to open the kitchen door had proven fruitless too – for some reason, as much as he turned the key, the door simply wouldn't open. It was as if something was pushing against the door from the inside to prevent it from opening. But it couldn't be, it had to be something wrong with his key; after all, the cooks didn't show any problems with opening the door during the day.

He sat on the chair and picked up the tablet. There was still an hour until the beginning of his shift. He looked up and tried to think of something that didn't involve revising his argument with Claire (or better, _Claire's_ argument with _him_) or him being a moron. The only other thing he could think about was Jim's whereabouts. Maybe he wasn't feeling good and decided to leave early? But why wouldn't he warn anyone? Certainly he would tell Lawrence about it, so he could tell Mike that he didn't need to watch over him anymore…

"**It's me"**

Mike looked at the desk. Golden Freddy was there, looking at him.

"… You're early. My shift hasn't started yet."

"**Why are you here?" **the yellow bear asked, his voice showing some signs of worry.

The guard shrugged. "Oh you know, I thought surviving five nights wasn't enough…" he replied sarcastically. "So obviously I had to come back for a sixth night just to prove how badass I am, and ruin my relationship with my girlfriend while I was at it, and end it all with a bang by being stuffed in a suit, because my life may as well be over…"

Even though Golden Freddy had no eyes, Mike could almost see them narrowing. **"That is not funny" **he hissed, punctuating every word.

Mike rubbed his temples. "Yeah I know…" he sighed. "Look, there's something about this place… I'm even having nightmares about it now…"

"**What kind of nightmare?"** asked Golden Freddy.

The guard looked at the tablet for a while. "I saw two little girls going after someone. I couldn't see who, but I felt like they shouldn't trust him…" he started explaining. "You were there, but I couldn't see you. You kept saying 'help them' over and over, but once I went after them they were gone…" He his face in his hand, swallowing hard as he remembered the dream. "… and then there was this puppet-thing, and a purple shadow of Bonnie… and the kids were screaming…"

He looked at the yellow bear, who stared back at him sadly.

"But that was just a random dream, right?" Mike asked, hoping that he would say "yes".

It took a while for Golden Freddy to say anything. **"… Be careful tonight…" **he warned.

He disappeared, leaving Mike worried. He didn't answer his question, which meant he was avoiding the issue. The dream hadn't been random – it meant something, and if he felt like he had to stay at the pizzeria, then it was because he had work to do. He had to figure out what was going on there. Even if… it killed him.

* * *

***4 Hours Ago***

His shift had begun thirty minutes ago. There was no message from Phil, obviously, and there was no eerie message from hell either. He would like to know who had recorded it so he could punch the person in the face – if it had been a physical being, of course. Otherwise there probably wouldn't be much he could do about it. Maybe he could get Golden Freddy to punch him instead…

The animatronics were very active, as expected, and the signs of supernatural active were more obvious than ever. The drawings of the children kept changing to that familiar drawing of a crying child, the sign of Pirate Cove changed to "It's me" again, and now Golden Freddy was sitting on the right edge of the desk, watching the right door. The level of activity that night was at least having some advantages – he didn't have enough time to mope around and feel sorry for himself.

"I'd like to know who keeps changing the writings on those drawings and sign…" the guard thought aloud.

"… **Not me…"**

"I know that." He stretched his right arm to get to the door light, but winced and held his shoulder. He had felt a sharp pain in his injured shoulder as he stretched his arm. Damn, he thought it was healing pretty well…

"**Need help?" **

Mike looked at the yellow bear with a small smile. "Yeah… Can you check if Chica's at the door?"

The door light illuminated the door on its own, revealing Chica staring at them through the window. The door closed.

Mike blinked. "You can do that? How come you didn't do that before?"

Golden Freddy looked at him. **"You never asked me to"**

The guard glared at him, annoyed.

"… **I'll watch the right side…"**

* * *

***3 Hours Ago***

"Is she still there…?"

Golden Freddy nodded slowly. **"Yes"**

Mike huffed. "She's going to drain all my power at this rate…" he complained, closing the left door once he saw Foxy was out of Pirate Cove. "Great, now both doors are closed."

"**Could be worse"** retorted the yellow bear.

"Right, I could have all four of them flanking me." He sighed. "Like Phil… Hey, were you around when Phil was on the job?"

Golden Freddy kept watching the right door. **"Yes"**

"Then how come you didn't help him?" he asked, trying to not sound accusatory.

"**I did" **the yellow bear said. **"That's why he's alive"**

Mike looked at him for a while before nodding and opening the left door. He closed it immediately after though, after seeing Bonnie taking a step towards the door.

He sighed. "I hate my job…"

* * *

***2 Hours Ago***

"… I think it's a stupid question but… is she _still_ there…?"

"**No"** Golden Freddy said, to which Mike sighed in relief. **"But Freddy is"**

Mike's sigh of relief turned into a growl of annoyance. "For fuck's sake why don't they leave me alone?!"

The yellow bear's ghostly body twitched. **"… You said a bad word…"**

"And I'll say more if they keep sucking up all my power! Look at that!" he yelled angrily as he pointed at the monitor that showed how much power he had left. He was down to 25%.

He took his feet off the desk in annoyance, making a ball of paper fall on the ground. Out of habit from having to pick up all litter he dropped on the floor under Claire's command – at the thought of her, he had to take a deep breath not to feel miserable again – he bent over to pick up the fallen ball. Once he had it in his hands, he realized it felt unnaturally warm.

"The hell…?"

He unfolded it. The paper had a drawing in it. A crying child.

"Not this sh-crap again…" He managed to correct himself before cussing, noticing Golden Freddy's stare. He threw the ball of paper carelessly onto the desk, checking the tablet and noticing Foxy was out again.

The guard looked at both doors, still closed, and sighed. "I _really_ hate my job…"

* * *

***1 Hour Ago***

Finally. Mike opened the left door while the right door opened on its own due to the yellow bear's intervention, now that both Bonnie and Freddy were gone. He knew that it wouldn't last forever though. They would be back soon enough.

He looked at the ceiling. Things were not going good. He didn't have enough power. It was only 3 AM and he was already down to 12%.

"Well. Thanks for the help, bud, but… I don't think I'm gonna make it…" he muttered, knowing Golden Freddy would hear him.

The bear said nothing, but turned his head on his direction.

"… I know I shouldn't have come back… But I felt like I had to… I had to help you guys." He looked at the bear with a sad smile. "So I could do some good, you know?"

"… **Stop it. You're not going to die"**

"Yeah, I'm not too sure about that…" he said, sounding more uncaring that what he felt. "You should probably leave. Things are not going to look pretty in a while…"

The yellow bear stared at him. Then, as his head lowered until he was facing the floor, he disappeared in a golden mist.

Mike looked at the phone. If he was going to end up killed, then he would use the time he had left wisely. Picking up the phone, he pressed the button that would enable him to record a message. After a beeping sound, he took a deep breath.

"Hello, hello! Heh, hey, so you're the new night guard at Freddy's! Boy, you must be desperate…" He cleared his throat, thinking of how to explain things properly. "So, you don't know me, but I was a night guard before you… The guy that I was replacing left behind some messages to explain the gist of it so I thought – might as well do the same. I don't have a lot of time left so I'll go straight to it: watch over the animatronics very, very carefully. They may not be very active at first, but as the week progresses, they'll start moving around more. They're left in a 'free-roaming' state at night, so don't be surprised if they're not at the show stage anymore after an hour or so. Don't worry about Freddy until the third night, and don't bother trying to look for him in the cameras – chances are, you'll just be wasting power. All you really have to do is check the cameras closest to your office, check the door lights to make sure they're not at the door, and check Pirate Cove. Yeah, I know, the place is out of order, but don't be fooled by that sign. The character there, Foxy, is just as active as the others. But he will only leave if you don't watch him enough or watch him too much, so just find a middle term and you'll be golden. Oh, speaking of golden…"

He paused to look at the right door. "… There's a chance you might end up seeing a yellow bear randomly appearing in your office. I know, it can be freaky when he first does that, but trust me, you have nothing to worry about with him. He's actually pretty helpful, so if he shows up, don't get scared and listen to him. And just in case you're thinking that I'm making things seem worse than what they are, I'm not – if these robots get to you, they will kill you. But I just want you to know, whoever it is that listens to this message: it's not their fault. Something is forcing them to do it. I tried finding out but truth be told I didn't get very far… So, I'm leaving it to you. Maybe, when you start working here, the guy that left me messages, uh, Phil Grayson, will have recovered… he's in the hospital right now, after being attacked by the animatronics, but I'm sure he'll get better. Hopefully he'll be able to explain the rest to you… Go to the hospital and ask to talk with a doctor named Patricia McKinley, and tell her you got the message from Mike Schmidt. She's his sister, and you can only see him with her permission."

He gulped. "… Well, that's pretty much it. If you end up wanting to contact me, don't bother. I, uh… will be long gone once you hear this. So… good luck."

* * *

***NOW***

A loud noise alerted Mike that the power had run out.

The office was engulfed in darkness. The fan stopped working, and it only took the night guard a few seconds to realize how hot it was in that office without it. You gotta be thankful for the little things…

The night guard spun on his chair until he was facing the left door. He knew that he was coming. Nothing he could do to stop him this time. There was more than one hour until 6 A.M. No lucky breaks. It was over.

Right on cue, the "Toreador March" started playing. A pair of familiar glowing eyes and teeth flickered on and off at the door, looming down on the night guard.

Mike smiled.

"Hey Freddy. Took you long enough."

* * *

**[A/N - And there it is. Countdown is over. Next chapter will be the last one of "The Night Shift". The next part of the "A Golden Opportunity Series" will be announced when I post the last chapter.**

**See ya in five days :3] **


	13. Chapter 12 - The Last Stand

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.**

* * *

Darkness.

As far as Mike could see, there was nothing but darkness all around him. He blinked, and then squinted, trying to find any remains of light there could be. There was nothing.

He was standing… somewhere, but could not see anything other than the color black, and couldn't hear anything either. Where was he?

He tried remembering what he was doing before he found himself in that weird place. It was his sixth night at the pizzeria… he had run out of power… and Freddy was there… And then it hit him.

Dead. He was dead. And he was standing in nothingness, because, naturally, he had no business going to Heaven. He should have expected it, really. But if he didn't get to Heaven, then where was he? It didn't feel like Hell…

Suddenly, a strong light flared on his face. He shielded his eyes, feeling a sense of warmth. What could that be?

He tried looking at the light directly, but it was impossible. The light felt so welcoming, and it was as if it was calling for him. He took a step towards it, not even sure why he was doing it. He just knew that whatever that light was, he wanted to follow it.

"Hello, hello!"

Mike froze in place. He knew that voice. The feeling of wanting to follow the light mindlessly dissipated, leaving him wondering what the hell he was doing. He shook his head abruptly, and turned around.

Phil Grayson was standing behind him, with his arms crossed and a pleasant smile in his face. Without the presence of never-ending bandages and with him not lying on a hospital bed, Mike could now see he was taller and more muscular than him.

Phil raised one hand and waved. "Hey there! You might want to leave that light alone for now, you know? You won't be able to leave once it catches you…"

The guard looked at Phil with a dumbfounded expression. "Wha… What are you doing here? I thought… I thought you were recovering at the hospital!"

Phil chuckled. "Yeah… Here, let's have seat."

He bent over to sit on what looked like nothing but air. Mike raised an eyebrow at that, but then a chair materialized out of nowhere, just in time for the other man to sit comfortably on it. Phil gestured for him to do the same.

Mike looked cautiously at the emptiness he was going to attempt to sit on. He bent over just like Phil had, and just like with Phil a chair appeared underneath him. He sat and looked at the chair bewildered.

"So, you're Mike, uh?"

He looked at Phil and nodded, before looking at the chair again. What a weird place…

"I have to say, uh, I wasn't expecting to meet you here…" He paused and scratched his chin, where a beard seemed to be growing. "I heard what you told me this afternoon and uh… I thought for sure you were gonna be fine!"

Mike looked at him again. "So you _could_ hear me? At the hospital?"

It was Phil's turn to nod. "Sure could. Thanks for having faith in them, by the way. The robots," he clarified, seeing Mike's confused expression. "I found out on my last night the same that you did – that they are being controlled by something. Heh, I can't believe it took me that long… Some lousy 'father' I am…"

"Do you know what exactly is doing it?" Mike asked eagerly. "Did you see anything…?"

Phil shook his head, frowning. "I can't say for sure. Interestingly enough, you mentioned something like a 'shadow Bonnie' thing in that nightmare you had… And that's pretty much what I saw on my last night…"

Mike's eyes widened. "Wait a second – you saw it? Like, in the pizzeria?"

"Yeah… I-I was lucky enough to make it out of the office when they… you know. When they got in." He gulped, as if it was hard for him to remember the event. "I got to the kitchen, but there was… something already there…"

"The 'Shadow Bonnie' thing?" Mike insisted.

Phil nodded. "Yeah… I-I don't know what that is exactly, but… That… that _thing_ attacked me and, well, things did not go too well… for me."

"So the animatronics didn't hurt you?" the guard asked, surprised.

"Oh no, they did... they did…" he sighed solemnly. "B-but at least they didn't do it off their own accord, you know? That, uh, Shadow Bonnie was obviously enjoying every minute of it… But enough about me, heh." He made a small smile. "How did you end up here?"

Mike frowned, swallowing hard. "I'm not sure… Last I remember, Freddy was at the door and I ran out of power… I probably blacked out and they…" He waved his hands as to not say what he thought the animatronics had done to him.

Phil understood what he meant. "… stuffed you in a suit?" he completed, to which Mike nodded. Surprisingly, Phil grinned. "You know, I find that very unlikely."

The guard blinked. "Why do you say that?"

The older man shrugged with the same grin. "If they had stuffed you in a suit you wouldn't be here, right?" His grin got wider once Mike blinked again, looking extremely confused. "Did you think you were dead?"

"I… I mean… You mean I'm not?" Mike stammered.

"What would that make of me if you were?" Phil laughed. "You're just unconscious. Uhh, hurt, probably, but still able to go back if you want to."

Mike ran his fingers through his hair, looking distraught at the emptiness around him. He wasn't dead. He _wasn't dead._

Phil went on. "That's why I stopped you before you were caught by that light over there. Once you go there, uh, then you really are dead. I've been avoiding it since I got here. I-I don't think my body is healed enough for me to wake up yet though…"

Mike stood up, and his chair dissipated once he did. "I have to go back," he declared. "I can't stay here. If I'm not dead yet, then I have to go back."

Phil looked at him. "Well, I'm all for it, but you may be seriously hurt by now…"

Mike shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I have to go." He dashed past Phil, but stopped once he realized something. "Uh… How do I go back?"

The older man chuckled. "Running won't do. You just have to, you know, _really_ want to go back. That's pretty much it, I think. Good luck."

The guard closed his eyes immediately, and concentrated, with all his might.

"_I have to go back… I want to go back… I want to go back…"_

He felt a hand in his shoulder, but didn't open his eyes. Slowly, he started feeling an odd sensation of not being able to move. His legs, arms and head felt unnaturally heavy, and just as he kept repeating "I want to go back" in his head, he heard someone call him. And he knew this voice too.

"Welcome back to the living, Mike Schmidt."

* * *

Mike opened his eyes, but the sensation he had now was much different from the one he had in the empty dark place. It hurt like hell.

He tried moving his head but a sharp pain next to his ear made him stop. Instead, he tried moving his arm. He moved his hand towards the place where his head hurt, and found it bleeding.

"Shit…"

"Please refrain from speaking such words, Mike Schmidt. At least, in front of our friend," said the familiar voice.

He looked up to see Jim looking down at him. He looked even more tired than usual, and was sitting next to him. He was holding his heart and breathing heavily, but still had the same calm smile he always carried. Mike looked to his other side, and found yet another familiar face looking at him.

Golden Freddy. He was staring at him with a worried expression. **"Mikey…?"** he called.

"I… I'm alright…" the guard said weakly, though he felt like he had been ran over by a truck. "What happened…?"

"I believe Freddy Fazbear managed to get in your office at around 4 in the morning," Jim explained, pausing between each word to breathe. "Though, he was able to regain some self-control and, instead of dragging you towards the backroom, he merely knocked you out."

Mike narrowed his eyes. "He _merely_ knocked me out?" he repeated, annoyed. "_Merely_ knocked me out?! I feel like I was just jumped by a group of wrestlers – ugh, this hurts…" He rubbed his head with both his hands, but his shoulder ached as well, making him growl in pain again. "Agh fuck this stupid shoulder!"

Golden Freddy flinched. **"Bad word!"**

"Ugh sorry…"

He looked around at his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was. He was definitely still at the pizzeria, but he didn't recognize the area… Upon closer inspection, he saw a stove, and a fridge…

"… Why am I in the kitchen?"

"Sadly it was the only place where there was no hostile presence at that moment," the janitor replied. "Our friend had no choice but to drag you here…"

Mike looked at the yellow bear. "… So you saved me. Again."

Golden Freddy nodded. **"It's becoming a habit"**

The guard laughed, but his short moment of amusement morphed into pain as his headache tripled in intensity. "Ugh f-damn this stupid…" he hissed, rubbing his shoulder.

With one herculean effort, he sat up very cautiously. Once he managed to balance himself in a way that didn't make his head spin, he looked at the elder next to him. Now he could see his leg was all mangled.

"What the – what happened to you?" he asked, worriedly.

"Ahh I'm afraid I am not the fast runner I once was, Mike Schmidt…" Jim sighed. "Something chased me all the way here, and if it wasn't for our golden friend, I would be but a corpse by now."

Mike decided to make no comment regarding Jim's unique and creepy way of putting things. "What chased you? Was it one of the robots?"

Jim shook his head. "No. It was… that vile purple fiend."

At the mention of the color purple, Mike realized who he meant, and felt an outburst of rage. "Shadow Bonnie," he muttered.

"So you've seen him? Yes, he managed to cause some damage I'm afraid…" Jim tried to maneuver his body into a more comfortable position, but stopped after a small gasp made it obvious that his body was in no condition to move. "… I am very sorry, Mike Schmidt, for not answering your calls earlier. I… did not have the strength to do so… And letting you in could put you in danger as well… But it was all meaningless in the end – I have failed…"

Mike stared at him. "What are you talking about? Don't tell me you were actually expecting to be able to fight him off…"

Jim chuckled lightly. "That I was… Fighting off unwelcome spirits is very different from fighting off robots, you see… I was able to keep him away from the pizzeria for the most part, but it seems my power is no longer sufficient…"

"What… Your 'power'? What are you, a medium or something?" Mike asked, confused.

The janitor nodded slowly, closing his eyes. He was obviously in a lot of pain. "Or something… It took all of my spiritual power to keep him away, but now I'm afraid he has won… I can no longer protect this place…"

Once Jim said those words, the door of the kitchen swung open. Mike heard several other loud noises, as if all the doors of the pizzeria were opening. He then realized. It was Jim. He was keeping the doors closed, and keeping that Shadow Bonnie thing away. But now he didn't have the strength to do it anymore.

The senior sighed, still with his eyes closed. "… He is coming. I can't stop him anymore…"

Mike turned towards him, disregarding his own pain. "Jim, stay with me! You're gonna be fine…!"

Jim shook his head, now smiling again. "No, no… This is the end of the road for me, Mike Schmidt. This is my last stand… But you… can still help them."

The guard felt his insides twist. "Help them?" he repeated.

The janitor looked at him, his eyes half-closed. "Poor restless little souls… They can't have peace… not while he's still around."

Mike frowned. Jim wasn't talking with him anymore. He looked like he was talking to himself, more likely.

"… Why…? Why did you follow him, my dear…? You knew he was up to no good…" Jim wailed, now breaking down completely.

Mike knew what he was talking about this time. He knew of someone who had followed a suspicious person, and ended up being hurt. But it had only been a dream… Could Jim have had the same dream in the past? He saw Golden Freddy standing up from the corner of his eye, staring at Jim sadly.

"Jim, look at me!" Mike called, tapping his shoulder desperately. "Jim!"

"I'm so sorry… so sorry…" the senior kept saying. "Help them… please help them…"

"**YOU CAN'T"**

Mike's body stiffened. He looked over his shoulder, and saw it. The image from his nightmare that made him feel that unnatural hate – and fear. A purple shadowy figure, with the same shape as Bonnie, with white intense pupils, and a wicked grin.

"You son of a…" Mike started, turning towards the figure, completely forgetting that that was a spirit of some sort, and as such punching and kicking wouldn't do him much good.

Before he could recklessly lounge at him though, his foe beat him to it.

It flew across the kitchen, going right through the guard, who stumbled back and almost fell. His whole body felt like it was burning, and he felt the sudden urge to puke. Once he did, only blood fell on the floor.

He coughed and held his stomach. Now his insides felt like they were boiling, and every time he felt the need to cough, more blood came out.

Shadow Bonnie laughed, now standing behind him. It was a cold and eerie laugh that made the guard shiver.

"**What's the matter Mikey? Are you not in the mood to play?"** it sneered, with a mocking childish voice.

Mike mustered all of his remaining strength to glare at the figure, though he had to admit he was in a pretty shitty condition now. Not only did his head hurt, but his shoulder was aching again and now he was coughing up blood. If there was going to be a winner of this confrontation, it was not going to be him.

"**Mikey"** Golden Freddy called, sounding very serious. **"I'll handle this"**

"What… what are you going to do?" he asked in between coughing, stepping back slowly.

"**Don't worry about that. You have to get out" **He pointed at the kitchen door.

"But… what about the – cough – robots?"

"… **He'll keep them away"** the bear said. **"Go"**

Mike frowned, wiping the blood off his face. "Wait… who's 'he'…?"

"**GO NOW"**

Without warning, Shadow Bonnie leaped towards the weakened guard, grinning and laughing maniacally. He barely had time to dodge before Golden Freddy stepped in front of him, grabbing the purple figure by the shoulders, turning and throwing him against the wall.

The guard got the now fainted janitor up and dragged him out the kitchen as quickly as he could. He was not going to stick around to watch that battle.

After a couple of minutes, the struggle to drag the – rather heavy – janitor was proving to take its toll. He was just passing by the show stage, nervously looking around and hoping to God the animatronics would be far away, when he had to stop and take several deep breaths as he rubbed his eyes. He was not coughing anymore, but he still had the horrible sensation of having his insides being burned and stabbed over and over. His head was also pounding and he was feeling extremely tired.

"Damn…" he hissed under his breath. His vision was getting blurry. Great.

He looked around, before picking up the janitor and resuming carrying him out. He took one quick glance at his watch. He should have been passed out for over an hour, because there were only fifteen minutes left to the end of his shift.

"Thank fuck for that…" He looked over his shoulder to make sure Golden Freddy was not there to hear him cuss. "We're gonna make it… we're gonna make it…"

"_Fufufu… fufu…"_

"… Crap."

Mike looked over his shoulder again to see Freddy emerging from the backroom. He was just about to head down the west hall, but it seemed like that was not going to happen.

He stared at the brown bear. He had never been this up close to him. He could now see he had the same distraught expression that Bonnie and Chica usually had. But there was something else. There were marks on his face – looked like handprints. He had just taken a couple of seconds to wonder how they had happened when a voice thundered from behind him.

"**What are you standing there for? RUN"**

Mike didn't wait for Golden Freddy to yell at him twice and ran as fast as he could, though carrying the janitor was slowing him down, naturally. Freddy stood there in slight surprise at seeing the night guard do such a stupid thing like running straight towards him.

Just as Mike was about to reach Freddy, something invisible pushed the brown animatronic bear out of the way. The night guard saw Golden Freddy keep Freddy pinned to the wall, staring at the guard.

"Wait… weren't you in the kitchen…?" Mike said confused, raising an eyebrow, his headache getting overwhelming as he tried to think.

"**Did I tell you to stop running?"** the bear growled.

Mike stared at him. He didn't sound that assertive before…

"**Mikey go!"**

The night guard watched in shock as another Golden Freddy appeared suddenly next to the one holding back Freddy. It was wrestling against Shadow Bonnie, and it didn't look like he was winning.

Wait. _Two_ Golden Freddy? The guard rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was his blurry vision that was getting him to see things…

"There are two of you?!" Mike snapped, once he came to the conclusion he was not seeing things.

"**Go, Mikey!"** yelled the one fighting Shadow Bonnie.

"**Hurry up!"** shouted the other one.

The guard made another effort to lift up Jim and carry him out, but it was getting harder and harder. The hall was spinning… the voices of the spirits was fading away as if the sound was being turned down.

"No… not now…" he mumbled, holding the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "Not now, come on…"

Another pull at Jim's arms, and another river of blood spurted out of his mouth. He fell on his knees, bending over as to ease the pain. It was no use. He was out of strength. One look over his shoulder showed him that he was still far from the exit. He could see the door, but it felt like miles separated them.

"**Come on, slowpoke" **

The guard felt the ground abandon him. He was being picked up by the solid Golden Freddy, who stared at him with a bored look.

"**I have to do everything around here…"** grumbled Golden Freddy.

"H-hey I can get there by myself!" Mike retorted, though his voice sounded so weak he was not surprised by seeing the yellow bear raise an eyebrow at his statement.

"**Sure you can"** he said sarcastically.

Without asking the guard for further permission to carry him around like a damsel in distress, the bear picked up the janitor with his other arm and carried them both towards the exit.

Behind them, he could see the fight between the two spirits continuing. The purple figure seemed to have the upper hand, but the yellow bear was not defeated just yet. It was weird seeing two supposed spirits fighting like that…

Once he reached the door to the exit, Golden Freddy placed him near the door, followed by an unconscious Jim.

"**You sure are a lucky one, kid"** he said.

**DING**

The clock announced 6 AM. The shift had ended.

Both Golden Freddies and Shadow Bonnie dissipated into golden and purple mists, respectively, leaving only the guard and the janitor. Jim had been out cold for a while, and Mike could feel he would soon join him. Maybe he'd go back into that place full of nothingness and have another chat with Phil… He'd have a lot to tell him now, that's for sure.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Now he could rest. Now he could _finally _rest.

His mind went blank, and everything turned black again.

* * *

"Hey. How long are you going to pretend being asleep?"

Mike's eyes twitched open. It took a couple of seconds for him to adjust to the light. Once he did, he saw the white ceiling and heart a faint beeping noise.

He was at the hospital, he could tell. His stomach was still aching, but it didn't felt half as horrible as it did before he blacked out for the second time. He moved his hand to touch his head, and found it wrapped in bandages.

"… Stop ignoring me, kid," grunted an annoyed familiar voice from his left.

The guard looked at his left, and for a horrifying second, thought he had died and sent to Hell.

Lawrence was leaning on the wall, glaring at him.

"L-Lawrence?" he stammered.

"I'm still waiting for the day when you call me by the appropriate title," the manager confessed in his usual rough tone. "You feeling alright?"

Mike squinted, still trying to understand if it was all a dream or if it was really happening. "I'm… I guess…? How exactly did I…?"

"I got to the pizzeria at opening hour and found you lying unconscious at the entrance. It's not good to have the costumers stumble upon the night guard bleeding out," he explained. "So, I did what any model citizen would and called 911."

The guard tried to recollect his thoughts and remember what had transpired that night. Once he did, he tried to sit up and a panic, but ended up grunting in pain without even moving an inch.

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Jim!" Mike said. "Jim was out cold, and he was hurt – where is he?"

The black-haired man stared at Mike for a while. "He's in another room. He's fine… for now," he said, in a way that made it clear he was not going to talk any further about it.

"_That's not a good sign…"_ he thought, though he knew better than to insist on questioning it.

"You almost died on me, kid. I thought I told you not to do that," the manager added.

"Is that going to come out of my paycheck…?"

Lawrence looked at Mike, and for a second, he could have sworn the man smiled. "No. In fact, I'm paying you extra." He took a check out of his pocket and placed it on the bedside table.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Feeling charitable today? Or is it because I'm in the hospital?"

"What do you think I am, a tyrant?" Lawrence sniffed, catching eye of Mike's expression. "Don't answer that. It is law that I pay my employees when they do extra hours, so it's not like I'm doing anything amazing here."

The guard closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "Right…"

"Now that you're out of harm's way, you better be more careful from now on. I might not be around to give away my blood next time…"

Mike's eyes snapped open in shock. "Wait a minute – you gave away…" He looked at his arm and saw a tube providing him with blood. The sad conclusion that ensued made him almost whimper. "You gave me your blood?"

"You say it like it's an awful thing," Lawrence grunted, seemingly amused at his reaction. "You should be honored."

Mike glared at the man. He could only hope he wouldn't start acting like him in the future…

"Well, before I leave…" Lawrence started, combing back his hair. "I thought I'd give you a heads-up. I'm looking for someone else to work the night shift…"

The guard widened his eyes. "You… you're firing me?"

Lawrence gave him an unimpressed scowl. "No. I considered my options and decided that you've been doing an acceptable job so far," he commented, ignoring Mike's look of impending protest. "There's no reason for me to fire you. Unless you want to quit?"

Mike shook his head quickly, though doing so made his head hurt again. He had been given a second chance – a golden opportunity, per se; he could not throw it away. Especially now that he had found out there was not only one, but _two_ Golden Freddy, and that that Shadow Bonnie thing was lurking around the pizzeria. He had to figure out what was going on and put a stop to it.

The manager carried on, nodding at his obvious determination. "Good. In that case, I have decided that, to improve safety in the work place, it would be better to have two night guards instead of one."

Mike blinked. "So I'm gonna have a partner?" Golden Freddy had been a good sidekick so far, but naturally Lawrence wouldn't know about him.

Lawrence nodded. "The job offer will be printed on the newspaper tomorrow. With any luck, we'll have our second night guard hired by the end of next week. But, while you recover, I have no choice but to close down the pizzeria." The man's sharp eyes narrowed dangerously. "I hope you fully comprehend the sacrifice I'm doing on your behalf, Schmidt. We're talking about possibly a _week_ of no costumers."

The guard gulped. Yes, he comprehend pretty well. He was going to have to make up for it eventually. As soon as he started working again, if it depended on Lawrence.

He nodded without saying a word. Lawrence sighed and looked at the door. "I'll take my leave now. I believe you have other visitors. A girl named Claire, I think."

Mike looked at Lawrence in disbelief. "Claire's here?" he questioned, failing miserably at hiding the glee in his voice.

Lawrence scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, she is. Listen, kid, I trust you didn't forget about the terms of sigil?"

The guard rolled his eyes. Lousy time to be thinking about that, no? "I didn't forget…"

"You remember exactly what they say, right?" Lawrence insisted.

"I can't say anything about what happened at the pizzeria during my shift to anyone outside the company…" Mike reminded out loud, in the most bored voice he could make.

"… unless the manager so permits," Lawrence completed, emphasizing every word. "And the manager is permitting."

Mike blinked. "What?"

"Tell your girlfriend. These kinds of secrets can strain a relationship to its breaking point, kid." Lawrence spoke as if he knew it all too well. The painful reminder of a bad experience was showing in his face.

Mike knew it all too well too now. The argument he had with Claire was still fresh in his mind. "Are you sure I can tell her _everything_?"

"Sure." Lawrence shrugged. "I leave it to you to make sure she doesn't do anything that might… displease me."

The guard nodded quickly. No displeasing Lawrence _ever._

"I'll let her in then," the manager said, turning his back to leave. He opened the door, almost being trampled by the blonde figure that stormed in.

"MIKE!"

Before he could greet her, Claire tackled him into a hug, sobbing. "Oh my god Mike I was so worried, I'm so glad you're okay!"

The door closed, leaving the two alone.

"Heh I thought I was a lying and deceiving scumbag…" he joked, looking at her relieved.

His relief was short-lived. Claire looked up at him with a piercing glare.

He gulped. "Huh…" He was not safe from her wrath yet.

"It's the second time you end up hurt after your shift. I knew that story about being jumped by thieves was bogus, and now I have the confirmation," Claire commented, letting go of him and standing at the same spot Lawrence had previously.

After what seemed like a two-hour long staring competition between the two – which he won, by the way – Claire looked down and sighed.

"I know I over-reacted last night, Mike… I'm sorry," she said. "I… I just felt so neglected these past days, and I could tell you were lying so I just… jumped to conclusions…"

"Hey, it's my fault… I shouldn't have lied to you… But now I can tell you the honest truth – and I ask you, please, be very, _very,_ open-minded…" he started, knowing that she would probably doubt the whole the-animatronics-at-the-pizzeria-are-being-controlled-by-some-sort-of-entity-and-your-boyfriend-is-for-some-odd-reason-being-compelled-to-sort-that-shit-out.

Claire evaluated him for a second before making a small smile. "Alright. I'm listening."

Mike opened his mouth to start his long explanation, but he was interrupted by someone opening the door.

It was Dr. McKinley. She smiled once she saw him. "Hello there, Mike. We have to stop meeting like this."

The guard smiled back, but then he saw Claire's look. She stared at Dr. McKinley with a piercing gaze. "Who are you?"

The doctor looked at her, undisturbed by her obvious aura of hostile curiosity. "I'm Dr. McKinley. I'm here to take care of your boyfriend. Don't worry, he's in good hands."

At the mention of her name, Claire's eyes narrowed. "McKinley," she repeated. "As in _Patricia McKinley?_"

Mike looked between Claire's glare and Dr. McKinley's look of polite confusion. And there he was in the middle… He hid his face in his palm. _Happy place… happy place… happy place…_

* * *

Lawrence stood next to a hospital bed, watching the old man that was lying there. Just like with Phil, Jim had a mask providing him oxygen and there was a machine next to him making a small beeping noise, though his had large intervals between each beep, as if his heart was struggling just to beat.

"You're really in bad shape." Lawrence sniffed. "I told you to take the day off, but _no_, the janitor knows best than the manager, obviously," he added with a scoff.

Jim chuckled weakly. "Comes with the age, I'm afraid… I trust the boy is alright?"

"Yeah. And you?" Lawrence raised his eyebrows, taking out a cigarette box.

The janitor closed his eyelids. "Oh I'll be resting soon enough. My time has finally arrived…"

Lawrence narrowed his eyes. "The way you make it sound, it's as if dying is no big deal."

"Not to me, it isn't. I've lived long enough, now it's time for the young… I'll be finally seeing them… one more time…" he sighed happily.

The manager shook his head and took out a cigarette. "This is ridiculous… If you had listened to me you wouldn't be in this mess…"

Jim smiled. "What other choice did I have…? Leave the boy to handle it all on his own? It would be him dying instead of me, and we both know that can't happen…"

"Yeah, yeah…"

The janitor looked at Lawrence. "I hope you're not intending on smoking that in here… This is a hospital for goodness sake…" he muttered, though it sounded more like he was amused rather than scolding him.

"I'm the boss of you, not the other way around," Lawrence retorted. "Plus, if you're okay with dying, than me smoking next to you won't make a difference."

Though, just as he was about to light his cigarette, something invisible knocked it out of his hands, and it landed perfectly on the trash bin. Lawrence stared at his hands for a while before sighing and holding the bridge of his nose.

Jim laughed lightly. "I believe our friend agrees this is not the proper place for you to smoke…"

"I need coffee…" Lawrence grunted, still visible annoyed. "And I'll need a new janitor too… You give me nothing but trouble."

"Sorry about that," Jim apologized. "But I believe I have a solution for your second issue. I believe you've met my daughter Mira?"

The manager looked at him. "Yeah?"

The janitor took in a deep breath, and the beeping noise become more rapid. "… Will you be so kind as to give her a call? I'm sure she will prove to be a capable employee… and she'll be able to… take my place."

Lawrence observed the senior for while, and the nodded. "Alright."

"Thank you, Mr. Richards… Oh, and do try and be more supportive of our Mike Schmidt. The boy has much to handle, and it will only get more difficult as time goes by…" Jim requested, talking more slowly.

The manager could tell the old man was not going to last much longer. He rarely took advice or suggestions from others, let alone orders, but he trusted Jim. He knew the man was probably one of the wisest he'd ever met, despite his regular quirks.

"I'll… do my best," Lawrence said.

Jim nodded. "That you shall…"

The light slowly disappeared from his pupils. Lawrence took a step forward, looking at the machine next to Jim. The line that showed Jim's cardiac rhythm started getting more and more flat.

The janitor sighed. "Bev… my dear… you waited for me…"

He wasn't looking at Lawrence anymore. It seemed he was looking in front, at someone at the edge of his bed.

At last, his eyelids closed. The line went flat. Jim Taylor was dead.

* * *

**[A/N - And with that, "The Night Shift" is over. **

**Thank you so much for all the reviews, followers and favorites, they mean so much to me.**

**As promised, I can now announce that the next part of this series will be posted soon - not sure when though. It will be called "A Golden Opportunity - The Other Guard", so if you liked this first part I hope you enjoy that one as well! :D We'll get to see who will be Mike's partner and get to meet Jim's daughter Mira. **

**Asides from that second arc, I'm also planning on posting two flashback arcs - one told from the animatronics' POV (called "A Golden Opportunity - Sentience") and the other from Phil's (Phone Guy) POV (called "A Golden Opportunity - Hello, Hello" - so original, I know). **

**AND (this is the last one I swear) a side-project including short stories about the secondary characters that don't get their own arc will also be posted, called "A Golden Opportunity - Save Files". The first chapter will be about Jim, so it should shed some light on the janitor's background :3 **

**Thank you so much for reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it, and that you will enjoy the next installments - it ain't over just yet! **

**As usual, any constructive criticism and support is much appreciated.**

**R.I.P. - Jim Taylor :(]**


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